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AIMS AND OBJECTS

OF THE

'^'/f^

TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY

IN KIVE PARTS:

I. WHAT THE SOCIETY WILL SEEK TO PREVENT.

n. CARE OF THE WAIFS AND STRAYS OF OUR CITIES,

in. LESSONS IN KINDNESS TO ANIMALS AND BIRDS.

IV. THE HUMANE EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.

V. MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS TO BE ACCOMPLISHED.

ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS.

EDITED BY J. GEORGE HODGINS, M.A.. LL.D.,

A VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY.

^^fiS*iii*i*»H,.

TORONTO: * .-k*^' '

PRINTED FOR THE SOCIETY BY WILLIAM BRI«tfS,. '

^_, „„_ J, _ 78 & 80 I INC. .Street East,

18^8.

.^..\ 'M~,

H\/rno
TV a

O K F I C K R J:-

OF THK

TOEONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

1888.

PRESIDENT.
W. R. 15R0CK.

VICE-PRESIDENTS.

J. GEORGE HODGINS. LL.D. WILLIAM H. HOWLAND.

REV. D. J. MACDONNELL, B.D. JAMES H. PElIiCE.

^^^

'^■,

JOHN I. DAVIDSON.

SECRETARY.

MISS ANNA B. DELL. 4).

ADVISORY

REV. CANON DoMOULlN, M.A.

REV. JOSEPH WILD, D.D.

MRS. C. B. GRASETT.

MRS. S. J. BRETT.

MRS. J. B. WILLMOTT.

MISS M. ELLIOTT.

MRS C. K LEIGH.

JAMES BAIN, Jr.

THOMAS McGAW

MERVYN MACKENZIE.

D. A. O'SULLIVAN, LL.D.

DIRECTORS.

REV. WILLIAM BRIGGS, D.D.
REV. JOHN H. CASTLE, D.D.
MISS DUPONT.
MRS. S. F. McMASTER.
MRS. J. H. RICHARDSON.
MRS. J. C. CLxVPP.
MISS WORKMAN.
INSPECTOR ARCHABOLD.
J. KIDSTON MACDONALD.
WILLIAM CANNIFF, M.D

BEVERLY JONES.
(Trlefiio.nk 1370)

SOLICITORS.

C. R. W. BIGGAR, M.A.
F. E. GALBRAITH.

VETERINARY SURGEON.
ANDPvEW SMITH, M.D. -

PEEFATOEY NOTE.

This publication is issued by the Toronto Hunmno Society in the hope that
the perusal of its pages will be the means of awakening and keeping alive a genuine
and practical interest on the part of the Toronto public and the public generally
in the aims and objects of the Society.

The general scope of the work is indicated in the five parts into which the
publication is divided. Each part is complete in it:iolf, and teaches its own lesson.

In connection with each part will be found a statement of reasons why the
subject of such part has been so fully treated. It was felt that if this were not
done, and, in a sense, somewhat exhaustively, and with a varied series of facts,
anecdotes and Suories — in prose and poetry — the lesson sought to be taught, and
enforced, would fail t . impress the mind of the reader as fully as was desirable.

The Society felt, too, that, without full information on the subject of the work
of a Humane Society, it could not expect that a general appeal for the necessary
funds to carry on its operations would be so successful as it would be after that
information was furnished. Without tiiese funds the reader will see that but
little can be accomplished. This will be the more apparent to those who look over
the extensive field which a Humane Society should occupy, and which is sketched
out in this publication. To half do the work proposed would be to invite failure,
and to discourage the willing workers and helpers in such a highly-benevolent causn.

It will be noticed, by referring to the Index, that quite a number of the
selections made, in prose and poetry, are from Canadian sources. Each one is
marked with an asterisk. Tliis shows that the humane sentiment is largely diffused
among our people, and that it is the theme of many of our writers.

The two noted engravings — the frontispiece and that on page xiv. — illiistrate,

each in a beautiful manner, the fact that in the most refined, as in the simple child

of Nature, sympathy for God's dumb creatures is equally strong and tender. How

true it is that —

"One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin."

The Society had hoped to have been enabled to distribute this publication gratui
tously, or at a merely nominal charge. The cost, however, of the nun'erous engrav
ings, added to the cost of stereotyping and printing the large edition of 10,000 copies,
absolutely prevents the Directors from doing so. The price has, nevertheless, been
fixed by them at the low rate of 25 cents per copy, or five copies to one address for $1.
To kindred Societies, and to other parties, the price, in packages of not less than 100
copies, will be $15 per 100.

The Society hopes that the publication of such an array of facts, incidents,
anecdotes and sketclies, as are contained in tiiis work, will induce every reader,
by a natural and kindly impulse, to become an active and earnest helper in this
preeminently good and noble cause.

With such an object in view, and with the prayer that a blessing may attend the
efforts of the Society to prevent cruelty to dumb animals and to aid in the rescue
of homeless waifs and neglected children, this publication is sent forth by the Society
on its mission of kindness and mercy.

J. G. H.

ToKONTO, July, 1888.

SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

The very cordial thanks of the Humane Society are due to MLsh Gwynne, of Parkdale. for
her most munificent gift of «500 to the fund, of the Society, without which this publication could
not have been issued. The Society has also received donations of $25 each fron, the Hon
Senator Mac.lonald. W. R. Brock, James H. Pearce. Edward Gurney, and others.

It is earnestly hope,! that other of our generous citizens will follow the.e examples so
that the Society may be enabled to prosecute its work with energy and vigor.

To Messrs. Rolph, Smith & Co. the Society are greatly indebted for their presentation to the
Society free of charge, of a drawing of the beautiful and suggestive cover for this publication,
from which the Society have had an engraving made.

The thanks of the Society are also tendered to the Chicago and other Humane Societies,
pubWil ' ''°"'^'"''' ^"' '^"''' ^°'' *^' "" °' " '°" "' '''" *''^''"'""' ^"«™^"'S« ^ "»«

A FORM OF BEQUEST TO THE SOCIETY.

I give and bequeath to the Board of Directors of the Toronto Humane Society the sum of

dollars, to be used for carrying on the benevolent objects of the aforesai.l Society.
Note. -The Toronto Humane Society is iiicorjorated by Provincial Charter.

SUGGESTIONS AS TO HOW TO PROCEED IN TORONTO.

As soon as anyone is aware of any act of cruelty to animals, or of cruelty to or of neglect by
parents of the. children, a notice should at once be sent to Mr. J. J. Kelso, the Secretary of thi

mr t A b?n pT' °^' " ''' ''-' '' - -^^'^^^ ^'"-'^^^^^ attention nty
pZurlr '* headquarters. In each case all the evidence possible shluld bl

Give name and residence of offender, when known ; time when, and the place where, the
offence was committed. r o. mu

««tnameof ownerorreceiverof animalsdrivenorcarriedinaeruelmrnner; name of owner
and driver of horses or other animals used in unfit condition, or otherwise abused.

facts

If prosecution is required, furnish names of two or more witnesses, and a full statement of

AU communications are regarded as confidential by the Society.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

ORIGIN AND OBJECTS OF THE SOCIETY.
Introductory

Chiot Objects of the Society.

What the Society will Seek to Promote.

Its General Objects.

Suppression of BrutalizinB Exhibitions.

Paqi
9

Prevent Indiscriminate Bird Shooting.
Care of Cattle in Transportation.
'I'lie Huniauu Mosaic Jjiws.
The Care of God's Crealuros.

PART I.

WHAT THE SOCIETY WILL SEEK TO PREVENT.
Preliminary

Prevalent Forms of Cruelty.
Defluition of Cruelty.
Motive for Cruelty.
What is not Cruelty.

What is Wanton Cruelty.

An Appeal against Cruelty.

Aiiin)ul .Sult'crinK caused by Ignorance.

Chapter I.— Mr. Hknry Bergh and His Work.

Chapter II. — Cruelty to Hor.ses

Overloading of Carts and Waggons.

The Cruel ChcckUcin.

Tlie Torture of Hurr-Uits.

The Arab to Ilis Horse.

Neglect to Water Horses.

Evil of Blinds, or Blinkers.

lirolvcn Down by Hard Usage.
iJockIng of Horses' Tails.
Clipping a llor.se's Coat.
An Appeal for Dumb Animals.
Horses Uncovered in Snow and Uain.
Why the Quaker Uouglit a Horse.

13
15

Chapter III.— Anecdotes, Appeals and Suggestions

The Bell of Atri.

Ring the Bolls of Mercy.

" Stay and Support of tho Family."

Dandy Jack, tho Pony.

Be Merciful to the Horso.

Horses' Ucvciigo for Cruel Treatment.
Deceiving a Horse wlien Catching Him.
Catching Beautiful Bock.
The Horse Byron, and Teasing Jack.
Unconsciously Cruel to a Horso.

Chapter IV.— Cruelty to Animals Generally

Wliat Creatures are Generally Ill-treated.
Do / .limalsSutfer?
The Plea of the SufTering Creatures.
Pain Felt by the Lowest Organisms.
Man's Cruelty to Creatures Subject to Him.

Tom's Cruelty and its Uepaymcnt.
Xo Law to Pimisli Drunken Cruelty.
Cruelty Cured by an Act of Cruelty.
Practical Iteflections on Cruelty hi General.
How to Secure Gentleness in Horses.

Chapter V. -Transportation of Cattle, Sheep, Swine, Fowls, Etc.

Extent of the Cattle Traffic.
Mortality of Transported Animals.
Sale of Dead and Diseased Animals.
Dishorning C!attle for Transport.
Dishorning Cattle Punislmblo in England.
Inhumanity in Loading Cattle.
Transported Cattle as Food.
Transportotlon of Sheep, Swine, etc.
Thoughtless and Cruel Treatment of
Fowls.

Ncccs.sity for Enlightenment on Humane Sub-
jects.
Amelioration in Cattle Transportation.
Steps to Prevent Cruelty in Stock- Yards.
Elfect on Cattle of Cruelty and Neglect.
The Toronto Cattle Market.
Hard Treatment of Cattle on Shipboard.
The Barbarity of Vivisection.
Cattle Cars— Discussion and Conclusion.
Dominion Act against Cruelty.

via

CONTKNTS.

CUAPTKR VI.

Caui

-Humane Sociktiks' Doinos El«ewiikkk 40

New York Htimano Society.
MiiMHficbiiHcttH lliiiniino Hooloty.
The Ainorlciiii I'linuit .Society.
Iluinano tioclctloH in KiikUiiuI.

Tho Humano Cnxiao In Enirlaud a.id France.

Other Uiiiimnii .Soclotle».

I'aloy on tlu! lliippy World of Nature.

CHAI'TEB VII— INTERK.STINO NaTIUAL Hl.S10Ry FaC'TS .

Natural ChnraotcriHtlcs of Anlniivla.
ICtrcctof Music on AuinmlH.
Tho TradoH of AninmlH.
LouKovity of Animals.
Animal Tolcj?raphy to Ono Another.

Tho Alann Uinl.

luHoct Fond of ('aiituilan UinlB.

Tho Snow HinlH and UirdH in tho Snow.

Tho Hird and llio (j\ia<lni))od.

CHAI'TER VIII.— ThK \VlNTON DlWTIUJOTION OF BiRli.S

Ocnoral Note of Kxplanation by tho Kdltor.

PromiscuouH Slio(itini< ot HirdH.

Hoys Willi Catapult H.

Tho Tournament -or KIIIIhk Ddvcb.

Dcstruutio.i of Birds Forbidden in Oorinany.

Who Killed C!ocl{Sparrow /

Don't Lot Your Cat ICill the Hirds.

Etfect of Domestic Jars on Sensitive liirds.

Birds' Enemies Very Numerous.

Bird Siiooting Matehcs.

A Dishumaid/.inK "^> rnusement."

A I'iea for I he Sea-Hirds and WaterFowl.

The Uo> who was a Good Shot.

l}oyH, Spare llu^ Hirds!

Don't Kill the I'retly Birds!

Sciiool-Boys and Birds in Australia.

Chapter IX.— The Great Utility of Birds to Agriculture 57

The Crow's Value to the Farmer.
Birds vs. the Weevil and Caterpillar.
The Chimney .Swallow, or Swift, an Insect
Eater.

3ir<\B 0, Farmcr'.s Sine Qua Non.

K'llioK the Birds of Killingworth.

V\ onderful Consumplion of Inaeels by Birds.

Tho Hea.Hon Why Apples and Peaches Fall.

Chapter X. — Biriw a.s a Decoration i'or Bonnets (31

Slaughter of tho Uoblns.

A Humano Milliner and a Customer.

Extent of Buniiot Bird-Traflic.

Tho Queen aiul English Ladlos against Bird

Adornnienl of Bonnets.
The Salirical Side of Bonnet Adornment.

CHAI'TER XI. — BiRI)-Ne.STIN(I AMI NEs7-RiFLINO

B:rd-Ne»ting.

Tho Frightened Birds.

The Riilod Nest.

Tho Overturned Nest.

The Widowed Bird.

Our Uobins are Back - But Ala-s I

" Su.san and .Tim and I."
'I'he Boy.s and the Bird's Nest.
Tlie Mird's Pilil'ul Bereavement,
(jeneral Spinner'.s Plea for tho Birds.
The Nightingale's Hidden Nest.
The Boy Disarmed by a Bird's Song.

Chapter XII.— Hiawatha with Birds and Animam.

Hiawatha anrl Na-wa-da-ha the Singer.
Sha-won-da-so and the Wood Birds.
Young Hiawatha in the WooiUnnd.

" Don't Shoot Us, Hiawatha."
The Fasting of Hiawatha.
The Singing of ( 'hi-bi-abos.

Chafier XIII.— Doos and Their Treatment

Cuvier on Dogs.

When Old Jack Died.

Dog-Fighting an Inhuman Practice.

To Boatswain, a Newfoundland Dog.

Tho Dog Loves Kindness.

To My Faithful Dog.

Proper Treatment of Dogs.

Cruelty to Dogs Punished.

A Friend— Faithful, True and Kind.

Kinds of Cruelty to Dogs by Boys.
The Lost Travjller and His Dog.
OJreyfriars' Bobby.
Men vs. Dogs.

No Cutting or Clipping of Dogs.
A Peculiar Characteristic of Dogs.
The Dog and His Disgraced Master.
A Sad yet Touching Performance.

CONTKNTS.

CUAITF.K XIV. — Ml-SCELLANKOUH OaHEH 'JP CbUBLTY .

Cruelty of Half KllliiiK Tomls.
Clilldron Killing MiillcrMiot*.
Protection of TnmlH In Ontario,
The HonoBt Old Toad.

Iliimano Thlni?* lo bo llomcinborwi.
Valuu of Toads In (Jardi-ns.
Gander Fulling " Uown .South."
Incipient Kornw of Cruelty In Chlldroii.

Pa»I

PART II.

CARE OF THE WAIFS AND STRAYS OF OUR CITIES.
pESTiTtJTE Waif- Life in London . . 81

Cry of tho HelplcHH Cliihlren.
Archdeacon Kiirnir on himdon Waif-Llfo.
Duty of tho Toronto Humane Sorioty.
Tho Divine VVanuil for this Duty.
Koniis of Cruelty to Children.
" InaHinuch."

Tho Critical Arc of Children.
Tho Key to Others' HeartH.

The UlKhtH of Children.

How \auU Ket their .Start in Crime.

Difllcuity In Dealing I'riulentlally with mieh

(;aHi!s as the l''orenoIn(f.
" ' DiKcharjced,' did yon Hay, Mister Judgol"
" Yes. (iullty— but .Sentence Deferred."
"I'lKiive Yon a Clmnco-Mako the Most of

It-Uo!"

Chai'tkii I.— Liohts and Shadow.s of Waif-Life

Spirit in Which This Work .Should be I'roso-

cut<^<!.
"Only Uemembered by \V;uvt I Have Done."
Tho Feelini? of Uesponslblllty in tho ^Yo^k.

Tho Neglected Oiiportimlty to Do Good,

ThhiKH to be 'I'.iKen Into Aeeounf.

Kami Reinforcements on this iJattlofleld.

(-'iiAPTEB n.— The Waifs and Stkays Telling Their Own Story

Song of a Toronto Newsboy.

Alonoin the BigClly.

l-ittlo Ned and Me.

An Orange for Little Brother Dill.

Tho Old Man " WrapiM^I Up in Jim."
"I'll Help You Aeross if You Wish to Go.'
Flowers for I'nor Ml lie .loe.
Our Little Tim. Alos, for Him !

Chapter III,— The Waifs and Strays— Others Telling Tueiu Storv

102

Tho Xew KinKdom Called " Home."

" I'll Hold Up My Hand so .losus Can .See."

" .She Covered Him Over, Dear Lost Will."

" Miss G , I'm «() Clad to See Y(Hi."

Poor Brother ,Taik and Hrolher ,Iini.

Tho Little White HearHO.

"I'm Nobody's Child, I 'Spose,

"Nobody's Boy J Yes, a Sinner's, No Doubt."

The Dead Tramp, and a Tiny .Shoe.

Found Dead and Alone !

Selling Violets,

(Jerm of the Orphans' Home, Toronto.

Tho Sheltered and the Unsheltered.

The Little Child's Silent Sermon.

" Please, Sir, Will You Lift Me Up a Bh J '

" I Turn, Cos I've Dot a Sick Mamma."

" I'm Losted, Oh, I'm Losted ! "

Tho Memory of a .Song,

" Mo and Bob and .Hm."

Chapter IV.— Some Waifs and Their Faithful Mothers 113

Kxanplos of a Mother's Early Inftuenco.
Little Phil anil His Mother.
A Rose for His Father's CotHn,
The Wanderer's Prayer.

Motherless !

The Old Minstrel's Mother's Homo,

His Mother's Songs.

"God Pity tho Wretched Prisoners,"
How Music Called a Wanderer Home.
The Unbolted Door,

CuAPQ'EK V,— Memories of Other and Better Days 119

Memories Awakened by a Hymn,
Revival of Touching Memories in Prison,
A Touching Prison Picture.

Chapter VL— Wah^ and Their Christmas .TTr^T. . , . . 7. . , . .

Littlo Waifs with Wondering Eyes. Christmas Outside tho Bars.

Tho ChrLstmas Samaritan. "Inasmuch."

The Roundsman's Christmas Stor.v. : The Christ mas Anthracite.

122

CONTENTS.

OuArasR VII. — Dhink and itn Sad Stoky

Nohoclyn (Jlrl.

Ciiniinal MannliiK iin Dciiravlty In Iiondun.

Thu I'olU'i'niiiii mill llic K<hI Clilltl.

Tlio NowMlMiy- "Only mi Arcldcntt"

" iMy I'ap.in Will Yon Huy, Sir/"

Ixiat and Found in thn Storm.

" Uobblo, Tastti Not, Toudi Not Drink."

PaiiTH Ti'in|itallon anil Uh ('.(nHonurncos.

"My IjiHt lllaHH, Hoys!"

Tiirrllilo .SuvprlHc of a Mutlior,

PiSI

127

Cii

OaAPTKR Vlll. — Solution or Somk ok tue Sad Social Puoulemh Uaisku in tub

FoREdoiNo Extracts 13ft

Confcrunco with tlio Mayor of Toronto.

"Whom 1h Your Hoy 'ronl(j[ht?"

Toronto Fri'Hli Air Fund.

LIccnshiK of NcwHjiapor VondorM.

LuKlslal Ion Obtained hy tliu Toronto Iluniano

Hocloty.
"God Ihilptho I'oor.'-
Appoal for UunorouH Help from tho CUlzcnti.

Tcinponiry Ifi'fnKo for Dcslltnlo and Nog-

1lm!|('iI Cliililrt'n.
ICconomy, In th« I'ublio Interest, of such

UnfiiKi'H.
Tho NunioH and ObjoctH of I'rnvontlvo and

Itumodlal InHtitullnnH In Toronto.
"Tho liovlng Heart Qrowa Ulch in Uivlnit.

Cii

PART III.

I
I

LESSONS IN KINDNESS TO ANIMALS AND BIRDS.

Chapter I. — Result-s of Hu.mank Teacuino and Influence

Ilumano .Sentinionts of Pooplo of Note. Value of Kind Worda ;.iid Ivind Deeds.

Cll/

141

CuAiTKR II. — Bird-Life — Incident.s and Storieh 146

Child Saved by a Hlrd.

The Ulrds' Way to. sing.

An jUinost Human Appeal by Birds.

" Sweetest, Sweet, O Sweet I "

Beautiful Instance of Motherly Care,

Tho Woodeoek'a (!are for Itw Youuk-

Grandmother's Myth of tho Itoliin.

The Beautiful Humminf^Blrd.

Bravo Little HunnniiiK-Blrd.

Mr. ,Iohn Burroughs on tho HununlnK-Bird.

A Tame IIumnilni,'-Blrd.

"Ah-Bob White.'

Tho Life and Love of tho Powee.

Tlu) I'ewco's Answer.

Tho Bluebird, the II(<rald of Siirinj?.

The ComhiKor the Bluebird.

Land Minis at Sea.

Tho Vok'os and Sonjfs of Birds.

Tho Calls and Notes of Birds.

The .Skylark's Wonilerful Hontf.

Notes anil I'liiy of Binls and Animals.

Kindness to a Houschidd of liiiblns.

Shall I Let the Caged Bird Free?

Chinese I'et Birds.

('haracteristics of the Loon.

Birds of Passage.

Cll,^

ClU

Ohai'ter III. — Kind Treatment of Horses, and a Contrast 157

Illustrative Facts and Anecdotes.
Tlic Arab's Farewell to His Horse.
Reciprocal Airection of Horse and Arab.

Devotion of the Cossack for His Horse.
Per Contra-Troalment of Horses in South
America.

Chapter IV. — Return for Kindly Treat.^ient of Horses, Etc 159

ClIA

Cha

"Bay Billy," our Leader.
Lost on the Prairie.
" Soil Old Uobln {-No, Never! "
A Fearful Uaco Through the Chicago Fire.
Remarkable Instance of tho Power of Kind-
ness.
Tho Way to Gain a Horse's Confldonco.

Horses .Should be Educated for Service.

Pierrot, the Faithful Donkey.

Tho Mai^ic of Coaxing a Horse,

" Flash," the Firemen's Horse,

"Who be Ye? Wan uv the Humane S'l'ty?"

"Billy, You Will Try, Won't You ?"

Whipping till the Horso was •' Played Out!"

Ohapter V. — Devotion of the Dog — Incidents and Stories.

169

" Brother Prince," tho Firemen's Dog.
A Dog Saving a Shipwrecked Crew.
" Tom," Our Hero Dog.
Newfoundland Dogs as Savers of Life.
"Old Dandle and Ilal and Fred and I."
Love Me, Love My Dog— tlio Pathetic Side.

The Terrier's Big Friend.

"When tho Old Dog Died."

A Dog's Extraordinary Dovotlsn.

A Dumb HiuM).

To " Flash," My Dng.

Ponto and tho Minister.

Cha

Oha

CONTENTS.

CHAi'Tr.n VI — lu.rsTRATivB Stouikh op Vakioih Animala

177

Till) Cnt niic, f|io KnokliiK'OlnNH.

Kiltcn mill till) KalliiiK l<ouvoa.

Ki^MoiiorH of I'lisHy.

Llttld (JiiHtivviv uml Her PoU.

'I'lio lloiiiclOHH Cut and tliu HcliiiDltiny,

The Iluuiuno I'rinou, " IJnsur Frit/.. '

Tlio Frolic nnd Clmlli'r of HqiilrroU.
MonioriiM of Drowniii); tlio .Si|iilrrol.
HquirriiLs in tlii^ lliirlldulturnl Uanlons.
Uosiniliigu Orowiiiiit( FI7.
Tho Fairy Sets of tlio SplUor.
Tlio <JrnKilioppor aiul tho Crlckot,

PART IV.
THE HUMANE EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.

CiiAiTEtt J.— The Teacuivo op Kinonrhm and Meucy 183

A Face of GontlonosH nnd Hoatity. An Old Woman Saved by a Illrd.

Why la It DcMlrublo to Taacli Klndnogs to- .Savi'il hy a Toronto t^)llli^ Hok

wards Diiinl) AiiiiiialHf Mow Host to Inciilcnto Klndni'tw and Mercy.

Do AnlinnlM Kci'lprocuto Our Kindnoaal Uirds My Teachers.
FroiicoHcu and Uoitolotttt.

CuArTEH II.— Coi;nsei-8 to Parents on Humane EnorATioN 18^

A Mother's Hinnano InHtruction of Children. (Jravo Ite^tponteibllity of I'aroiits,

A Mothor'.s I,oHHon of Kindness to a HorHo. What Do tho Children Koad t

" I llavo No Tlino for My Clhlldren." Dool Leniently with Mttio Children.
"I'm Hurried, Child."

OnAi>TEK III.— Importance of Humane Education by Teachers 192

The SchoolmoHtcr as o Teacher of Humanity. Humane lilterature in our I'ubllo Schools.

Chai'ter IV. — KiNnNE.ss and Mercy the Re8ULt.s of Humane Teaciiino 195

Unconscious Influence of Hurroundlngs. Our Dumb Hrothera.

Influence of Hunianc Instruction. Corliss, tlie Famous ICnglno Builder, and the

Lllllnn and Oracle Under tho Umbrella Uobin's Nest.

Conscionce, or the Voice of (iod. Ben IlazzanVp Guestfl.

A Maiden and tho Birds -A Contrast. Howard for Loving; Decda.

KindnosH to Sheep on a Cattle-Traii^^

CiiAi'TER V. — Heroines of Kindne.s.s and Mercy 190

Florence Nightingale and Her Noblo How One Benevolent Woman Incited Others

Work. to Deeds of Kindness.

"Our Margaret." Mrs. Vincent, of Boston.

Chapter VI.— The Formation of Children's Bands op Meucy 200'

Children's Humane Organizations. Band of Mercy Pledge.

Bauds of Morcy. Object of Bands of Mercy.

PART V.

MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS TO BE ACCOMPLISHED.

Chapter I. — Work Bkpore the Toronto Humane Society 203=

Growth of a Humane Christian Sentiment in Summary Statement of Desirable Objoeta.
England— Its Great Achievements, and Miscellaneous Things to be Done.
Eneourogomonts therefrom.

Chapter II. —Protection op Defencble.s9 Children 20*

xii CONTENTS. '^

I'AOB

Chai>ter III. — The Betteu Care of Houses 205

I'ropor Winter Cover'-ig (or Horses. Ilaniiine Treatment of Toronto Street Car

Vario • is Hints and Sujfgcsl ions. Horsoa.

Chapter IV.— Drinking Fountains in the Street,s 207

Mra. Nettloton's Foi .tain. . Many Fountains are Needed.

City Fountains for Horaos and Ttngs.

Chapter V. — Humane Kiilino of P'i.su and Cattle for Food 208

Humane Killing of Fish. Transported Cattle arc Dangerous Food.

Killing Cattle for Food— Examples. Poisoned Milk of Frightened Cows.

Chapter VI. — Merciful Killing of Disabled Horses an- Do«s 210

Hilling Disabled oi- Diseased Horses. Killing L>isublcd or Diseased Dogi.

CflAirER VII. — Humane Cave, and Painle.ss Destruction, of Dogs and Other

Creatures 211

.Chapter Vlli. — The Philadelphia }•■ /stew of Dealing with Vagrant Dogs .... 212

Capturing of Vagrant Dogs. Uefuge for Lost and Suffering Animals.

Modes o'" Putting Dogs to Dcith. Indrmary for Various Animals.

Time of Killing Vagrant Dogs. Home for Toronto Dogi.

Dogs in the City I'ound a:ul !Sholli,r. Homes and Pounds Elsowlioro.

Huuiane Killing of Dogs by Itoquoot. Dear Li tie Hiioy s C^onfession.
Humane Killing of Cats.

Chapter IX. — Formation of Local HuMANr Societies 215

How to Organizo a Humaiie Society. Rules for Branch Humane Soeieties.

Organization for Humane Worlt. Difflidion of Humane Literature,

^ced of Loca' Humane societies.

Chapter X. — Other Kindred and Desirable Objects 216

The Toronto BYesh Air Fund. " Itescuo the Perishing."

The Beneficent '^iower Mission, . Oh, .Speak to Her Gt .tly.

A Hospital Sunday in Toronto.

203

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIOXS.

208

212

215

Thorough Bred Frontinin'ecr

Rural Scene and I'Ard (tall-plecc) . . xli

The Indian Seoul and His Dying Hound xlv

Head-piece (throe compartments)

Some of the Objects of tlio Society's Cnre U

An Incident of Mr. Uergli s Humane Work — U

Cruel Treatment of Horses 15

The Horse Free and 'JMrestriuned l(i

The Horso Under Torture ll>

An Ambitious Coachman's Show-ofT 17

A Humane Driver's Horses 17

Violent Uesontment by "Maud S." of Former

Ill-trcatnunt 18

Horses, vith and without 'blinds, at a Railwiiy

Station lil

Horse Broken Down by Hard Usage '20

Now York Fountain for Horses and Dogs SI

Horse with Tail Slightly Docked 22

Unsheltered from th'> Storm 23

The Bell of Atri 24

'lorso Pulling the Bell of Jusileo 23

otpy and Support of the Family 26

Ilural Scene witli Sheep 2J»

Killing Birds for Amusement 30

Inhunianily in Loading Cattle 31

The Turkey -Head Up and Free ;i,i

Tortured while being Transported 35

"Alas for the IJarity of Christ'an Charity"—

Even to Fowls ! 3C

The Duck at Home and Untorturcd 37

Kumano Society Signs in Stock- Yards 37

Keeping Tired Cattle Standing by use of Sijikc

Poles 38

'Many Hands" (nr even Bills) "Make Light

Work" 15

Wild Dear in the F->rest Clade 10

Bird \«''orkers 10

The Canadian Beaver 17

Birds in the Snow- "Out in the Cold" 10

Sparrows (hcad-pioc)) 5()

The " Sport " of Shooting Song Birds I 51

Turning the Tables on Pussy 53

Wounded Pigccjns Left to their Fato 51

Water-fowl Disporting on tlio Wing 55

Passenger Pigeons 50

' Martins and Swallows in ('ouncil 57

White bellied SwU't 88

Bird's Nest, with Eggs Ki

The Overturned Nest (il

Boys and the Bird's Nest Gti

Hiawatha— Talks on Birds and Animals 68

Wild Deer at the ]>ako Side 69

A Mother Dog and Pup 70

Cotching Butterflies 70

ThcFrog 78

Homeless and Houseloss Children 80

Waifs of London (two illustrations) 81, 82

Lookinic for their Husbands in the Gin Shops . . Ki

Where Waifs Most Do Congrtgate 81

Paob

Hiniianc oniccr Protecting Child 85

Waif on the Street 92

Alone in the Big City 98

Wiiif (Brother .Ia,-k) 105

Selling Violets 108

Watching for Little Phil 114

Little Wanderer at the Quaker's Door 116

Houseless Sisters in tiie Snow . . 123

Nobody's Girl 127

Cruelty of a Drunken Mother 128

Drink and ii s Sad Story 133

Waiting for Her Father 134

Newsgirl 136

A Lady's Hiinianc Lesson to a Cat 140

Kindly Words to a Litth; Crossing Sweeper ... 144

A. Mother Hen and Her Chickens 145

Five Little Brown- winged Birds 147

Woodcoc': Carrying its Young 148

Group of Huniming-Birds 149

Land B'rds on the Water 152

Feeding the I'et Pigeons 'i53

The Caged Bird 155

Birds of Passage 1S6

Flight of the Wild Geese (tail-piece) 156

ijady Brassoy, and lici- Autograph 159

"I used to t'ling to Brother as I Uode Him to

and fro" IGl

" .Maud S." Hunting for Sugar 163

Pierrot, the Faithful Donkey 1C5

Dog Saving r. Shipwrecked ('rew 169

Dog Saving a Drowning Child 17!

A Dog and the Kail way Train 173

Seeking t o Follow His Master 176

Mating Pussy Admiro Herself 176

Birdt) Making Friends in the Looking-glass .... 177

Kitten and Falling Leaves 178

The Cat and the Schoolboy 179

Rurul Scene and Squirrel 180

Spider's Fairy Nets 181

"Houseless, Homeless, Motherless" 182

A Face of GentlencMj and Beauty 183

Two L't tlo Birds 187

"Oh, Naughty Pussy, sec how You've Hurtod

Mo" 188

A Mother's Lesson of Kindness to a Horse IflO

A Schoolroom and its Surroundings 192

Little Lillian and Bonnie Gracio under the Lij^-

In-ella 194

Kindness to Sheep on a Cattle-Train 196

Signing the Roll of a Band of Mercy 202

Proper Winter Covering /or Horses 205

The Nettlc'.on lM>\inliun 207

Humane Killing of Fish 208

Mode of Killing Disabled Horses 210

Mode of Killing Disabled Dogs 210

Poor Children Pleading for theit Pet Dog 211

Humane Killing of Dogs 212

A Child's Helpfid Idea of Hosjiital Sunday 217

Ambulance for Disabled Animals 220

The
24th of
were co
meeting
1888.

In Ji

was eat;
tiirio So
Animals
but fina

In Nc
oiety wa
by petit
pual, bn
it. Tlie
CdmmitI
iloputati
urged tl
been pre
ferred to
the follo'

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

"Small gervhe is true service wliile it lasts;

Of humblest friends, bri|;tit creature ! scorn not one.
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun."

— Wordmmrth.

" He prayeth best who loveth best
All things, both great and small;
For the dear Ood who lovc'h us, ■ ' \ " .

He made and loveth all."

— Coleridge.

•/•;■-. >

ORIGIN AND OBJECTS OF THE SOCIETY.

The present Society was organized on the
'24tii of February, 1887, an<l active operations
were cormianced soon after. The first public
meeting of the Society was held in January,

1888.

In July, 1873, a .somewhat similar Society
was established in Toronto, named "The On-
tario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals." It issued reports for a few years,
but finally, for want of funds, ceased to exist.

In November, 1887, a deputation of this So-
ciety waited on the Toronto City Council, and,
by petition and personal explanation and ap-
peal, brought the claims of tlie Society before
it. The matter was referred to thr- Executive
Committee, and, in December, 1887, another
deputation went before the Committee and
urged the prayer of the pe.'Jon which had
been presented to the Council, and by it re-
ferred to the Committee. The result was that
the following recommcnilaticn was made to the
2

Council by the Committee in its Report, Xo. 48,
dated 2nd of Decenibor, 1887:—

" Your Committee have had under considera-
tion a letter froni r.ho President and Secretary of
the Toronto Hum.ine Society, asking the Council
to authorize the Board of Police Commissioners
to appoint a special permanent officer to assist in
the work of the Society ; also, stating that, under
the authority of the Coirnnissioners, a constable
had been detailed for a few mouths to aid in the
work, the effect of which has been the preven-
tion of a great deal of cruelty and the punisli-
ment of the more persistent offenders, the fines
imposed going into the city treasury, and being
almost sufficient to pay the constable's salary.

" Tho matter was further referred to the Po-
lice Commissioners for an estimate of the cost
of the proposed service, which has been reported
at $G30 per annum, and your Committee, being
in hearty sympathy with the objects of the Soci-
ety, beg to recoiamcnd that the Police Commis-
sioners be empowered to detail a special officer,
as requested, and include his salary in the an-
nual estimates."

This recommendation was concurred in by
the City Council at its ensuing meeting.

THF, TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY,

Chief Objects cf the Society.

Tlie ol)jocts of tlii.s Ihiinano Society are iden-
tical with those of other Biinilar Societies in
England and the United States. They may bo
In-ieily summarized as follows: —

The prevention of cruelty to animals.

The protection of insectivorous l)irils, etc.

'i lie protection of children from cruelty and
neglect.

Tlie establishment of children's Bands of
Mcr^jy.

The erection of drinking fountains.

What the Society will Seek to Promote.
The Society will aleo seek to j)romote —

Tlie circulation of humane literature in the
home and schools.

Tlie duty of kindness to all dumb animals.

More humane methods of killing animals.

The feeding, watering, and protection of
animals on stock trains.

And generally a more humane and merciful
treatment of God's creatures, remembering that
He has declared that :

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall
obtain mercy. "

The Humane Society wanta every individual
citizen to help them in tUs good cause.

" Ye who think the truth ye sow
Lost beneath the winter's snow,
Dou1)t not Time's unerring law
Y'et shall bring the genial tiiaw.

God in nature ye can trust ;

Is the God of mind less just ?

" Workers en the barren soil.
Yours may seem a thankless toil.
Sick at heart with hopo deferred,
Listen to the cheering word :
Now *he faithful sower grieves ;
Soon he'll bind the golden sheaves."
— Fritz and Lcolttte.

The objects of the Society are thus summar-
ized by the Rev. Dr. Wild, of Toronto, in a
sermon preached by him in January, 1888 : —

Its General Objects.

" The Toronto Humane Society desires to aid
in the suppression of cruelty, especially to
animals; first, as far as possil)le, to see that
they have proper shelter, enough food, and
necessary care — which three things some men,
through their avarice, or through .heir vicious-
ness, will neglect, and punish their b' rse and
cow in the most brutal manner. We want to
Ktop them. Again, to see that they are not

abused in their daily labor l)y being excessively
loailed and overtaxed, straining every musele
in onler that a man may drag a little more,
making a few cents extra i" coming up tlie hill
from tlie station ; they have to make iiiin keep
his whip by Ills side and to see tliat he docs not
overload tiie lieast, and also tiiat he dons not
add any otlieralHiction, such as the lash jr the
whip ; we want to teach him humanity.

Suppression of Brutalizing Exhibitions.

" We wantalso to suppress all those exhibitions
that are brutalizing in their influence and effect,
Bucli as dog figlits, cock fights, or any other
kind of tights that are of a brutal order. Surely
we ought to have advanced far enough in the
centuries to take pleasure from something else
than tiiese brutal methods of contest.

Prevent Indiscriminate Bird Shooting.

" More, to sujipress the excessive and unneces-
sary crue'ty of sportsmen, not to suppress
proper and legitimate sports ; but are you not
aware that people go forth with a gun and pro-
miscuously slioot our songsters, and anything
that almost comes in tlieir way, when
they cannot make use of the feather, or the
flesh, or the claws? They shoot them just out
of sheer passion. I have seen them come on
my farm, and, when ihey could not see a bird,
they would shoot a goose, a duck, or a hen, and
the foreman would come round to me perhaps
tlie next day, and say : ' I found this or that
dead by some means.' It makes me feel like
being a tyrant, and saying to the Toronto and
Hamilton dudes that come there, 'Stay at home
and shoot in your own back yard at a miniature
duck or hen, and see how you can aim at it.'
Some will kill for mere sport, and leave the
poor bird struggling on the ground. There is
no sense in such things.

Care of Cattle in Transportation.

"This Society also seeks to provide for the
proper treatment of cattle in transportation.
The American Humane Society have been very
successful in this line, in persuading the railway
companies to make better and more wholesome
accommodation. "

The Humane Mosaic Laws.

As to the oldigations of these laws, Rev. Dr.
Wild said: —

" Tiie Mosaic laws were very humane toward
the animal world; even the bird in her nest
is protected by inspiration, and on the Sab-
bath it says : ' Thou shalt rest thine ox and
thine ass. ' God comes down with His protect-
ing ])o\vor for the dumb animal. They were
not to be uneijually yoked together, because
t\\2 smallest as well as the largest would sutler
through the chafing of the yok''. Neither were
tlvey to be mixed : ' Thou ilialt not plougii
with an ox and an ass together.' (Deut. xxii. 10. )
The oxen were not to be muzzled at tha treading
out of the corn : "Thou shalt not muzzle the
ox when he tread etb out th'; corn.' (Deut. xv

ORIGIN AND OBJECIS OF THE SOCIETY,

24.) The law provided also for the proper
bhiughter, and even an inspection of meat. "

" '1 hou shalt not see tiiy brother's ass or his
ox fall down \>y the way, and hide thyself from
tliem Tliou slialt surely help to lift tiieiii up
again." (Deut. xxii. 4.)

" If thou see tlie ass . . . lying under his bur-
den, and wouldest forbear to lielp iiini, thou
slialt surely help with him." ^Ex. xxiii. 5.)

"A righteous man regardeth the life of liis
beast ; but the tender mercies of the wicked are
cruel." (I'rov. xii. 10.)

"The Lord is good to all; and His tender
mercies are over all His woriis." " Thou open-
est Thy hand, and satistiust the desire of every
living thing." (I'aalni cxlv. 9, 10.)

"Open thy mouth for the dumb." (Prov.
xxx 8.)

In the Book of Genesis it is stated that "God
made the cattle "; a little farther on, " God re-
membered the cattle"; and again, " He caused
grass to grow for the cattlt,"; and still farther
on, " The cattle on a thousand hills" are His.

The Care of God's Creatures.

Some may ask: " Why take all this trouble
to care for and protect animals wiiich liavc
neither intellect nor reasoning facidties? Were
they not given for 'the use and service of man '?
Was he not also given ' dominion over the fish
of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over
the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every
creeping thing that creepeth uf o;i the earth ' ?"

True, as to this complete sovereignty of man
over all of God's creatures. Kut with this
" dominion " did He not connect, as in all tilings
else, a personal responsibility to Him for all ol

our acts towards these, Ilia dependent creatures?
Did He not assert His supreme ownersliip over
them when He said, " I he cattle on a thousand
hills are mine"? And did He not declare His
care for tliem when He said, "Your Heavenly
Fatlier feedeth them," and "not one sparrow
falleth to the ground without your Father " ?

Tlien, aj, to intelligence. Have not all ob-
servers and writers on natural history ^'iven
example after example, striking and almost con-
clusive, of the extraordinary sagacity and in-
stinct - amounting to dumb reason — in the ease
of all kinds of animals, birds, fishes and reptiles ?
At all events, as they are God's creatures, and
as such, the Christian men and women of the
community should not be luimindful of their
duty towards them.

^Vhether you love to work for animals or chil-
dren best, you soon fall in love with mercy it-
self, and the mantle which was almost too scanty
to cover your dog and your horse, stretches by
some divine process in the weaving until it
amply covers yoin- neighbor's desolate orphans,
too. Or, you think all the tenderness you can
put into practical use is not more than enough
to shield a poor waif, girl or boy, who has come
into your charge, when tjie very infection of
loving young life makes all other life sacred to
you, and you draw up into your embrace tlie
humbler companions and helpmates of man's
labof and pain as well. The tiling itself is in-
fectious, and compassion spreads from higli to
low ami low to high by a holy contagion, which
seems to carry the lesson that all life is one and
inseparable, like all love. —iJci'. G. E. Gordon,

^""^- ^'N...

BOMB OF THE OBJECTS OF TUB SOCIETY S OABS.

PART I.

WHAT THE SOCIETY WILL SEEK TO PREVENT.

Prevalent Forms of Cruelty.

The Society will seek to prevent the follow-
ing acts of cruelty :—

The unnecessary ami cruel heating of animals.

Tlie dris'ing of galled and disiibled horses.

The overloading of cart horses and teams.

The neglect to provide shelter for animals.

The clipping of horses, and the docking of
their tails.

Tlie use of the check-rein and burr-bit.

Matches for cock and dog-fighting

Matches for the shooting of pigeons, etc.

The clipping of dogs' ears and tails.

The exposure uncovered of horses in cold
weather.

The under-feeding and over-driving of horses
and cattle.

Neglect and cruelty on cattle stock trains.

Tlie tying of calves', sheep's, and fowls' legs.

Bleeding live calves periodically, and pluck-
ing live fowls.

Further, its mission is to remedy universal
cruelties by general remedies, and to foster a
general recognition of the duties we owe those
who are helpless, cspeciall}' waifs and strays,
and other unprotected children. Its mission,
further, is to spread knowledge on humane sub-
jects in the community.

Definition of Cruelty,

" Tne earliest liritish Colonial Statute passed
in what is now the United States, was in 1641.
Later statutes differ from earlier enactments,
and from t)\e common law, regarding this class
of offences, in proceeding more clearly upon the
])rinciple that animals have rights, which it is
the province of the legislature to recognize in
its laws, and of the courts to protect by judi-
cial proceedings ; and the act of cruelty alone,
irrespective of any other element of crime that
may accompany the act, is more plainly indi-
cated as criminal. What, then, in the view of
tlie law, is cruelty to animals?

Motive for Cruelty.

"If an animal is cruelly beaten or tortured for
the gratification of a vindictive or malignant
temper, such an act would everywhere be held
to be cruelty. But is this all ? Must such an

express purpose be shown to exist, in the mind
of the offender, to constitute the statutory
offence of cruelty ? By no means. Torturing
an intractable animal, or beating it in an un-
necessarily cruel manner, by way of training or
correction — pain inflicted in wanton or reckless
disregard of the suffei'ings it occasions, and so
excessive in degree to be cruel — torture inflicted
by mere inattention and criminal indifference
to the agony resulting from it, as in tiie case of
on animal confined and left to perish from
starvation— would all be punishable under the
statute, even if it did not appear that the pain
inflicted was the direct and principal object. It
certainly is not true, as an abstract proposition,
that it IS immaterial what may be the motive
of a person who inflicts pain upon an animal,
in determining the criminality of the act.

What is not Cruelty.

" Pain inflicted for a lawful purpose, and with
a justifiable intent, though severe, does not
come within the meaning of "cruel" as the
word is used in the statute. Thus, a surgical
operation, occasioning the most intense suffer-
ing, may be justifiable, and is not criminal. To
drive a horse at a rate of speed most distressing
to the brute, when the object is to save human
life, for example, or to attain any other object
of adequate importance, may yet be lawful. If
a horse be overdriven by a person not know-
ingly or intentionally, but in the honest exercise,
of his judipnent, as distinguished from mere
recklessness of consequences, or wilful cruelty,
the act is not within the meaning of the statute ;
and, in such a case evidence of the person's in-
experience or want of knowledge as to the
proper treatment of horses would be competent.
In the instances just mentioned there is no
crime, for there is no criminal mind.

What is Wanton Cruelty.

' ' But pain inflicted upon an animal, in wanton
and reckless disregard of the suffering it might
occasion, and of the consequences it might pro-
duce, would be criminal as certainly as if it
were occasioned by an express purpose, formed
in an evil tnind, to inflict suffering and torture
upo>. animals ; the two acts would differ only
in being more or less intensely cruel. This, in-
deed, is only a single illustration of the princi-
ple that pervades the entire criminal law,
according to which it is presumed that every
man intends the natural, necessary, and even
probable consequences of an act which he inten-
tionally performs." — From a puljlicution of the
Massachusetts S. P. G. A .

MR. HENRY BERGH AND HIS WORK.

An Appeal against Cruelty.

Will none befriend that poor, dumb brute,

Will no man rescue him?
Witli weaker etlort, gasping, mute.

He strains in every limb.

Poor, jaded horse, the blood runs cold

Thy guiltless wrongs to see ;
To heav'n, O starv'd one, lame and old,

Thy dim eye pleads for tliee.

Thou too, O dog, whose faithful zeal

Fawns on some ruffian grim.
He stripes thy skin with many a weal,

And yet, — thou lovest him.

Shiuiie : tliat of all the living chain

Tliat links creation's plan.
There is but one delights in pain —

The savage monarch— man !

O cruelty — who could rehearse

Thy million dismal deeds.
Or track the workings of the curse

By which all nature bleeds ?

Their lives thou madest sad ; but worse
Thy deathless doom shall be ;

" No mercy," is the withering curse
Thy Judge has passed on thee.

Good God ! Thy whole creation groans,
Thy fair world writhes in pain ;

Shall the dread incense of its moans
Arise to Thee in vain?

Tlie hollow eye of famine pleads.

The face with weeping, pale,
The lieart that all in secret l>leeds.

The grief that tells no tale.

Oppression's victim, weak and mild,

.Scarce shrinking from the blow.
And the poor, wearied factory child,

Join in the dirge of woe.

O cruel world ! O sickening fear,

Of godd, or knife, or thong;
O load of evils, ill to bear !

How long, dear Lord, liow long?

-M. F. Tuppir.

Animal SulTering caused by Ignorance.

" Kvil iH wrout'tit

By want of thoii(flit
A8 well as want of heart."

"A large proportion of the suft'ering is causeil
by the ignorance of masters as to the capabili-
ties, habits and reipiirements of their animals;
from exacting tasks which cannot pi-operly be
performed ; from keeping them in an unnatural
state, which, after producing much pain, ends
by bringing on disease, often fatal to the ani-
mal, and always unprofitable to the master.
Much injury is also caused by the indolence of
servants, who omit to give proper exercise to
the animals over whom they have control ; also,
by mistaken kindness, there being many per-
sons who pamper and overfeed their dumb de-
pendents, under the impression that they are be-
having kindly to them, when, in reality, their
cimduct is the cause of disease and pain."

Will the reader help the Society to diffuse the
humane literature In this publication, and thus
dispel Ignorance like this ?

I. MR. HENRY BERGH AND HIS WORK.

Treating of the subject of cruelty to animals
would not be complete without a reference to
the noble career of Mr. Henry Bergh, late
Hresident of the New York Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, who died in
March, 1888.

"Mr. Henry Bergh was born in New York
in 1826, and received a superior education at
Columbia College in that city. In 1862 he was
appointed secretary of legation at St. Peters-
burg, and began there that active interference
in the behalf of the right of animals to kind
treatment, which has given him a reputation
wide as civilization. Of course, his services to
abused animals in the Russian capital were en-
tirely unofficial, but they were eft'ective, thanks
to the distinguished character of liis equipage
and the fine livery of his coachman. Mr. Bergh
resigned his position on account of ill-health.

On his way home he indulgdR in the luxury
of leisure travel, and became acquainted with
the Earl of Harrowby, I'resident of the Royal
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani-
mals, London. The Society of which Mr. Bergh
was the founder, is modelled largely after the
English one presided over by this nobleman
until his death. He returned to New York in
1804, and spent a year in maturing his plans for
the estii,blishment of means to check and pre-
vent cruelty to animals. The American Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was
instituted in 1865. In 18()6 it was given by
statute the power of prosecution and even arrest,
which it still possesses. Mr. Bergh had been
its President since its inception. He received
no salary for his services, but freely gave his
time to the cause he had so much at heart. By
the law of 1866 he was made Assistant District
Attorney in New York city, and Assistant At-
tomey-(Jeneral of the State in the enforcement

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

cf j;he laws acainst cruelty to aniinala. During
1H73 he 11111110 a Ic'cturiiif,' tour in tin; WcHt,
wliiuli rcsultocl in the formation of Huveral
soeietieH similar to tliat in N(!W Vink. At tiie
liegimiiug of tliis reform, no (Stale or Territory
in tile United States contained any statute re-
lating to the protection of animals from cruelty.
At present thirty -nine States of tin; Union iiave

head was covered with ft dingy brick-red crop
uf iiair, comlied puiitanically straiglit, and liis
Yankee cut, cadaverous face harmonized '.veil
with the whole piiysii|uc. No matter wiietlier
he was after a poor horse drawing a tish waggon,
and "lying at the same time, or sto))pii)g a street
car Iteing painfully dragged iiy two sick, over-
worked, half-shod horses, or sitting in iiis otlico

AN INCIDENT OF MK. IlEIUJUS HUMANK WOHK IN NKW YORK.'

adopted substantially the original laws pro-
cured by him from the State of New York.
In 1874 ho rescued a little girl from inhuman
treatment, and this led to the founding of a
society for the jjrevention of cruelty to chil-
dren. . . . Personally Mr. Bergli was a man
likely to attract attention anywhere. He was
over six feet high, very slender, with angular
anatomy at best, and a long nock. Mr. Bergh's

looking at the prod he had taken from an ele-
phant trainer, he was always very neatly and
remarkably well-dressed — always in a black
frock coat, buttoned in ministerial style ; high
standing collar, invariably with a handsome
necktie in pronounced colors ; shirt and sleeve
buttons of the best, and pantaloons usually of
some dark color, seldom black. He was, after
all, a dignified, rather cavalier-appearing gentle-

• This and «ome ther valuable engravings are U83d tn this publication by the permission of The Century Ojm-
paii.v of New Vork.

CRUELTY TO HORSES.

man, and so well drosAud was ho, so tall and
ciiiphatiu in purHonal ))i;arin<^, lie soeined a tit-
tuy target for all eyoa on the street, and just
tiie figure to call forth the (ju jstioii, ' Who is
hi'?' When he si)oke, iiis eyeH would light up,
and the wliole laue as.suine an expruHsiou of
kindlinoss and good cheer. While dogs and
hor.-icH attracted, perhaps, the largest sliiru of his
attention, no living creature was too insignifi-
cant to claim his attention. Rats could not
he killed in a pit if he knew of tiie intention.
Pigeons could not he shot from trajis, nor foxes
chased over the country hy lady an I gentleman

riders. Ho waa called a • crank ' by many ;
i)Ut it is h»ng since ho cea.sod to be regarded
otherwise than with respect. 'I'housands who
never saw the kind old man will regret his
duiitli, and creatures that cannot speak will owe
to him everlasting gratitude for nforms in the
manner of tlieir treatment, which his death
will not cause to go backward." — ISontuu Trans-
crijit,

Those who may not be ablo to emulate Mr. Bergh
In his noble deeds, can, nevertheless, aid this So-
ciety In prosecuting hum::.no work like hl3.

TUlb riOTUEE TKLLS ITS OWN TALE OF CRUEL TUEAXMEST.

II. CRUELTY TO HORSES.

Cruelty to horses takes various forms. The
most common arc: — Overloading and driving
them when the neck and other parts, where the
harness presses most, arc sore and raw. This
soreness is often produced on the neck when
the collar is not of the right size for the horse —
when it is too small or too ! vrge. When it is
too small it produces a feeling of strangulation,
and presses unduly on parts of the neck. When
it is too large its looseness tends to chafe the
nock, and rubs it une<|ually at every movement
which the horso may make.

Overloading of Carts and Waggons

Takes place chiefly in towns and cities, where
excavations for foundations of houses are made.
In the rural parts overloading often takes j)lace
when the steepness of a hill is miscalculated or
the badness of a road is overlooked. lu such

cases, rather than take off part of tho load,
which might cause inconvenience, the horse is
vehemently urged by voice and whip to do what
it manifestly is not able, and what it should not
be forced, to do.

On one of the most travelled roails, just out
of the groat city of London, England, at the
foot of a hill is hun'' this si'm : —

horse's petition to UI:i DRIVER.

" Up the hill whip me not,
Down the hill hurry me not,
In the stiible foiget me not.
Of hay and g.ain rob me not.
Of clean water stint me not.
With sponge and brush neglect me not,
Of soft, dry bed (le))rive me not.
When sick or cold chill me not.
With bit or rein jerk nie not.
And, when angry, strike me not."

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIEK Y.

The Cruel Check-Rein.

Another Bpcuius of cruulty t<j horsoR ia tho
iinneueggary usu o( thu cheek-rein. Tho follow-
U]^^ I'nj^ravingH, wliieli me full of spirit, nre ile-
sigiied to illuBtriite in a striking irmiiner tiie
toitmc to wliiuli liorst'H an: put iiy the use of
this liailiarous invi'Ution. 'J'iio first or up[)er
engraving of those two shows how inuuh at ense
iind free in their graceful movements horses are
in their natural state and when tliey are iinder
no such galling restraint as when a check-rein
is used.

niai;, who 'oels tho slightost interest in horses^
and where is the man, woman or child wlio ia
duvoid of such interest? -would think of the
duties thoy owe to these faithful dumb servants.

" Women have deep sympathies and universal
inlluence. If they will only stop to rouli/.e how
needlessly horses sull'er in many ways, we are
certain that they will do everything in their
power to have that suH'ering done away with.
Lot every woman eon.iider what it must Im to
an animal whose nerves are fully as sensitive as
her own, to have his neck pulled hack until tlip
muscles are strained and crampc<l, to be obliged
to wear a bit, which at any sharp pull half ilis-
locates his aching jaw, and then to crown his
misery, have his eyes blinilcd -his
lieautiful, im])loring eyes, wiiich
exprePH all his sense of injury and
all his helpless agony ! If any lady
of fashion, instead of lying back
against her carriage cushion un-
conscious of the distress she is per-
mitting, will go in front of her
horses, where sho can look be-
neath the blinders and see their
speaking ga/o, we know that her
sympathy will give her no rest
il she has secured their right-
As illustrative of the practical
common sense of one <lriver, and

TIIK HORSE FREE
AND f.SRESTRATNED.

The second grouj), or set, of
engravings is ecjually striking in
its delineation of the condition of
horses, first in the easy conven-
tional of driving them in ordinary
harness, as is seen in the lower
engraving; and secondly, when
horses in the hands of ambitious
drivers or coachmen are cruelly
tortured by the check-rein, in
order, it is said, to show off their
spirit and mettle ! To the horse it is a false
and cruel device.

Mrs. Ellen Snow, of Hartford, Connecticut,
in the appendix to the Rochester Report of the
American Humane Association, uses thefollow-
int; touchingly elorpient language in her appeal
to the fashionable ladies who take little interest
in the care, condition or treatment of the noble
creatures which minister so much to their pleas-
ure in driving stylishly through the parks, ave-
nues and streets of their cities. She says: —

" We wish that every woman, as well as every

THE HORSE UNDER TORTURE.

the thoughtless no-iense or carelessness of the
other, I give an ordinary example, by no means
uncommon in such cases::—

"A few weeks ago two horses were drawing
each a load of coals up a rising grounil in the
suburbs of our city. The hinder horse had the
check-rein swung loosely on his neck, and the
animal was hanging his lieail forwards, and, by
throwing his M'ei^lit into the collar, was drag-
ging his load steadily and without undue strain
on his muscles and joints. The foremost horse,
with his load, was Ijraced up with a tight check-
rein, his head cramped and raised, his mouth
fretted, and every joint and muscle starting and

stra

wen

hiiK

give

eaNit

The

whii

if ho

now.

char

to t'd
he'

CRUELTY TO HORSKS.

Btniinetl ivt oacli Mtop lie took. Tlio two iiu'ii
wcro tiilkiiig to luiuli other, and tlic ciirtiT of tliu
liiiiilcr hoiHi! wuH lii^iird to H:iy, ' Hill, go and
f,'ivu thy hoi'Hii liiH lutad; li< II pull that load
uaniiir. ' itill wont and lot do\ u tho chiH^k-rcin.
Till) liofHC ininiud'atuly did Is work in a way
which convijyud tlu^ relief lif felt an olcarlv as
if ho had Haid, ' 'I'liere, thank you ; I'm all riKht
now.' We Would ad vine everyone who has the
cliaijje of (I draught horse when he Im at work
to t'ollow tlu! advieu, Miivo thy horsu hiti head;
In 'II pull lh;it load easier." "

fortiihle, an<l he bccoineH rextloHH anil iriituhle :
in fact, hiH head aehex and painn him, and ho
gets many a violent Jag and hlow, jimt hecauHe
IiIm driver cannot uniltrNtand the cauxe of IiIm
reHtleHMiumx. 1 have Keen many liorHux Mta>iding
at puhlic-hoUHe doorn and other placeH, in thiH
uneasy state, and hy-and-hy set oH', in their
doHire to get home and ho unharnes.><ed, when
the driv('r has riLshed out and punished the
horse for his own error.

■' Third - 'VUii check rein inllicts unceasing
torture upon the animal in another way. H\
holding the head upwards, it puts the
inuseles of the iieuk on a constant strain
They Ix^come painfully uneasy ami
tired. If the horse cannot hear it he
rests the Weight of his head upon the
icin, and his mouth is violently
stretched. Thus ho only exchanges
one torment for another. I am not
making fancy sketches; every word of
my description is true. I have seen
many splendid and valuahle horses,
worthy of a better fate, tossing their
heads incessantly, and champing their

Dr. Kitching, of New York,
an eminent English writer on
the subject, says : —

" Firnt — If a horse pulling a
load has his head held in by a
check-rein, he cannot throw
his weight into his collar, and
is hindered from giving his
body that position which is
the most natural and etfective.
He has to pull by tho strength
of his muscles only ; tho weight
of his body is lost, and so much
pulling strength thrown away. What remains
is exerted at a groat expenditure of iihe horse's
powers and health, to say nothing of his com-
fort. The conssiiutmcc is, that his limbs and
muscles beoomo strained and distorted. His
knees are biwcd forwanl, and his hooks back-
ward. If a man pull=t a load l)y a strap across
his shoulders, he bends his head and chest for-
ward, and relieves his logs ; a horse do3s the
same when he can, and ought always.

" Second — It injures the horse not only in the
way described, but the confinement of tho head
in a constrained poiition, whilst the heart and
lungs are excited by work, hinders the breath-
ing, and the circulation of ths blood in the
head. Those effects make the horse uncom-

A HUMANE DRIVERS HORSES.

mouths into a foam, from the intolcruble un-
easiness of this cruel chock-rein. To sum up
in a word : tho check-rein lessens the horse's
strength, brings on disease, keeps him in pain,
frets ami injures his mouth, and spoils his
temper. "

Mr. Fleming, Veterinary Surgeon of the
Royal Engineers (London), says :—

" I think nothing can be more absurd than
chock-reins. They are against reason altogether.
They place tho animal in a false position. The
horse stands with a eheck-rein oxaetly as a man
would stand with a stick under his arms, be-
hind his back, wnen told to write. It is ex-

Ir^

TflF TORONTO HUMANE SOC'IKTY. .

trmiicly ituoI, also, I liivvc no dmilit, if tlio
|iulilio could only ruiili/i! tint fact that it tlirowa
away a lacKc portion of tlm Iioi'hu'h imwur alto-
i{i'tlit'r, ami in very frnol himlilfH, tliJM rein
wimlil lie iliHcontiniii'il, It m not only the head
that HuH'efH ; l>nt t'roin IiIh heail to liiM tiil, from
hill MhouldcM- t<i hilt hoof, and ovur hia uholo
l>ody, hu Hull'urM nioru or less."

It woidd lie jimt aH reaHonalile to uxe HUeli an
iuHtruinent of torture in the catie of a man
carrying parculM or drawing a hand cart. It in
Well l<n<iwn —

"That if a man han a heavy load to |iUHh or
ilraw, he lowern hix head liy licnding forward,
and throwa the weij^ht of his body aj^aiimt, so

"There in an important diirereneu hetwoon a
ti;{ht eluiek-rein and a tightened rein, altliougli
not generally undi rHtood. 'I'lielirHt in injuriouM,
and cannot help the horMe, while the latter in
ofttMi iisilid. livi'duv , the latter in a uteady
HUpporl to the animal'M head from a diNtinet
and intelligent nource the ilriver ; wherean,
the former is only the horncH head fastened to
IiIh own HlioulderM. 'I'liiil the eheekrein in in
eouMiHtent with the aitioii of the horHCH heail
in clearly hIiowu liy the fact that when a horm;
falls it Ih alwayM limken."

I'rofeHsor Pritehard, of tho Royal Votorinary

College (Lonilon), sayn ; —

" I wouM nay that, instead of preventing

■■^,

•^'sr'^*^-'->.,.^lV/-/,t.r'"'--T»r<^..-:r».x-*t**jf^t..i.;:;

,.-A>-'

VIOLENT RESKNTMENT OP MAUD 8. TO FORMER ILL-TREATMENT.

as to propel, tho load, as docs the ox or horso
under similar circumstances, if pennitt"d.

" If the man's htail were tied to a bel,. aro\ind
his body, so that he could not licnd forward, he
would lose the advantage of his weight, and
could only pull or push with his muscles ; so
also with the ox or horse.

"A horse's check rein should also be so loose
as to let him put his head where he wants to
when going up hill, and draught horses should
never have check-reins."

The London " Horse Book " says : —
" When, from some defect in the animal, or
other cause, the check-rein U used, it must be
slackened. licrnime, in addition to the easier
position of the neck, a greater portion of weight
can be thrown into the collar, especially going
u]) hill, thus saving a great and unnecessary. ex-
penditure of muscular power.

horses from falling, the check-rein is calculated
to render falling more freiiuent. Other not un-
common results of its use are, distortion of the
windpijie to such a degree as to im])ede the
respiration ever afterwards, excoriation of the
mouth and lij).s, paralysis of the muscles of the
face, etc. It is a useless appendage, supported
only by fashion. I feel that if this were more
generally understood, numbers of excellent per-
sons who now drive their favorites with check-
reins would discontinue to do so."

The Torture of Burr- Bits.

Burr-bits are another cruel invention to tor-
ture horses, with a view, as the an 'titious and
igiKirant coachman says, "To show off their
spirit and mettle." it was against this terrific
irritant that Mr. Henry Bergh, of New York,

CRUELTY TO HOTlSKS.

.innr^i other thlni^n, wii^^oil liisoiwiiit wiirfaro. Thu other, to the left, hw both hlindor* cover-
'I'hii illuMtnitiDn on |m)((i 14 nhowii liim in tliu in^ Ul» uynH iin>l a tortiiriiiK ( hook roiii to utill

lilt of Hto|i|>in}{ a fiisliioii.khli: ciniago, tliu
liiii'HoM t>f wUiuli liiiil thcmj tiii'i'ililu iiiHtriiniuiita
of tortiiru abtauliuil to tliuir huailguar,

'I'liu htirr-ltit Ih attaoliuil to thu hit on uacli
HJilu of the liorHc'M fact!, with tin' naiJH {lonctrat

nioru worry iiini. Hu liuarH thi^ p'lllinK and
liiHHin^ anil niovmnt^nt of |ion<U.'roiiH tiiinriH, ap-
paruntly, aH it wcru, moving towaidH iiini. llu
iM, tliuroforo, in torror, and know* not which
way to niovu ; no lie liaH to oluiy tho cnifl power

ing to thi! llt'Mh on iinwuuru l>y tliu ruins. Tlio over liini, and rears in an allVigiitu'd manner, to

olijcut being to make n wunry horse seem lively !

Evil of Blinds, or Blinkers.

The UHo of hliniU or " blinkers " is another
traditional spuciusof crnulty, pas.iivu in its form,
ami yet akin to the ehuek ruin in
its injurious uO'uots on the sensitive
nature of thu horse which a little
ii\telligcnt thought would correct.
It should bo runiumlicred that —

''The horse has binocular, or
side vmion, whiuh blinds of cuurbu

:•.

the nmnifest danger to life and limb of him who
shows neither wisdom nor compassion in his
treatment of the poor, tcrrilied horse.

Broken Down by Hard Usage.

A "broken-down • 'irse" is the nat-
ural result of neglect or ill-usage, or
of both combineil. It is truly a sad
sight to see an animal of so nol)le,
iind yet of so sensitive, a nature, liter-
ally " broken (low n " by num's cru-
elty or neglect. How immeasurably

TWO HORSES, WITH AND WITHOrT BLINDS, AT A RAILWAY STATION.

entirely intercept. The conBequenco is that
horses often take fright and run avvaj', and do
great injury, simply because they cannot see
what is going on around them. Moreover,
blinders are often carelessly adjusted, and by
their friction, or the pressure of their rough
edges and their continued Happing, do the eye
great injury. Most cases of blindness are caused
by blinders. A horse is more easily broken to
harness without blinders, and afterwards never
needs them."

As a striking example of the ill-effects of the
check -rein and of blinders, we give the above
accompanying twofold illi\stration.

The horse to the right has neither the blinds
over his eyes nor a check-rein to aggravate him
in his nervous tremor. He, therefore, looks,
with ears erect, at the jiuffing, moving engine.

such a man, in a Christian community, falls be-
low the "Arab of the desert," whom we h)ok
upon as not half civilized, and es])ecially as one
not knowing anything of the kindness, human-
ity and mercy taught us in the Bible, and as
the result of Christian civilization.

The illustration on page 20 gives us an ex-
ample of the legitimate el'ects of thoughtless,
heartless, or deliberately cruel usage. Horses
the subjects of such usage — unfortunately for
themselves— arc usually owned by livery-stable
keepers. And however much such keepers may
warn, and even threaten, those who hire these
horses, that, in case of injury, or wilful accident
by their " contributory negligence," they will
be held to account, yet it practically avails little

THE TORONl'O HUMANE SOCIETY.

to the poor horse. Often, when out of slglit c:
the owner, the whip is appU^-d without stint or
mercy, nud tlie horse is driven at the top of his
speed — and tluit too without regard to its
ability or condition. The consequence is that
in a s'iort time the horse is u**.erly broken
down, and is thus rendered useless for livery-
stable purposes. The bent knees and lifted
liind leg (in the illustration) shows how "weary
iind worn " the cruelly over-driven " livery " is
w hon returned to the stable. As a rule, the

Thou art glad when Hassan mounts the saddle —
Thou art proud he owns thee : so am I.

Let the Sultan bring his boasted horses.

Prancing with their diauijud-studded reins ;

They, my darling, shall not match thy fleet-
ncsb.
When they course with thee the desert plain.s.

We have seen Damascus, O my beauty !

And the splendor of tlie Pashas there ;
What's their pomp and riches? why, I would
not
Tak-j them for a handful of thy hair 1

— liayard Taylor

rREMATOr.KLY BROKEN DOWN BY HARD USAGE.

keeper has little or no means of redress, and,
alas, the ill-used horse has no champion !

The Aiab to His Horse.

Come, my beauty ! come, my desert-darling !

On my shoulder lay thy glossy head !
Fear not, though the barley-sack be empty.

Here's the ha'f of Hassan's scanty breatl.

TIk.u shalt have thy share of dates, my beauty !

And thou know'st my watrr-skin is free:
Drink and welcome, for the wells are distant,

And my strength and safety lie in thee.

Bend thy foreliead, now, to take my kisses !
Lift in love thy dark and splendid eye;

Neglect to Water Horses.

Another kind of neglect from which horses
suffer is a failure to water them at suital>le
times. Watering (^ horse should be done before
r.rd when they are at work, and not iunnedi-
atcly afterwards — as that might be dangeri'Us
if the horse were too warm at the time.

This failure is freipiently the result of care-
less neglect. It too often arises from the fact
that the nunicipa! iiutiinrities have ..^glected
to j)rovi(ie tlrinking fountains in various parts
of the city or town for that purpose.

In Toronto tliia omission is now likely to
be sup])lied. The Water Works Committee ot
the City Council have, at the instance of Mr.

CRUELTY TO HORSES.

Kulso, Secretar> of our Humane Society, re-
portoil favorably on the subject.

I'ersoas driving horses with loads all day
sliDuld carefully attend to the duty of watering
tlit'ir horses. The following hints on this sub-
jiiit may be of use : —

" If a horse is allowed to drink directly alter
eating, n, portion of the food is carried through
tiie stomach undigested, and is liablfi to do
harm. Thereforo, always water horses be/ore
feeding, and you will find they will do beoter.

live part — of a horse's tail. This cruel opera-
tion is known by the name of " docking."

It, as well as the practice of clipping the ears
of dogp, is a cruel and repreiiensible act. In
the ccse of hornes it deprives them of the means
in summer of driving off flies and other troul)lc-
some insects. The IVair of the shortened tail is
not long enough to enable the horse to whisk
off his tormentors from the fore part of his
body . On this point see the admiralile remarlvs

rODNTAI.V FOR HORSES AND DOO.-?.

drive better, sweat less, etc., and will drink
all that nature demands as soon as the, become
accustomed to this habit."

Fountains are an absolute necessity in the city
both for horseB and dogs. Tbe Society appeals to
generous citizens for he7p to erect some of them.

Docking of Horses' Tails.

.\ iiractice has grown up of late years, especi-
ally among those wlio affect tlie "style" of
military men, not only of cutting, or shorten-
ing, the hail' of* a horse's tail, iiut also of cut-
ting off the upper portion —often the most sensi-

of Mr. G. \V. Curtis, in the "Practical Reflec-
tions," on page 32.

The Massachusetts Humane Society has is-
sued the following timely remarks on this sul)-
ject: —

" The advocates of this caprice of fashion —
for it is nothing more -advance in defence of
this mutilation: —

" 1. That it improves the app* arance of the
animal and increases its value.

"2. That it prevents accidents which may
be caused by the reins becoming bound dowu
untier the tail in driving.

U'J

rill': rouoNro iiimanI'; noc ikiv.

" ;i TlvHt i( mHi|H.»ti'S ('1ii(Vtlll\U>(iH Mill mkVKB

\i\\»w ill urixMiihiti.

"4. I'll.:! it i« >'Up|iitiiiii'\ , mill lliorcrniii
m'i>i>«iiniv.

" III iiiiHWi>i, i( iimv l>i> bhIiI I

"I rimi till' iiiiiiiliiii.iii of llin htmltliy iiihl

inmilill (toliioUH iif lUiy illliiiiil* I'lilllint liii|i|ii\ii

i\w \\!\\\A\\\o\\ i>l' llio ('ii>,i(.>i' or itilil (i> iiM
vi»l«o.

"'i, 'l'hi»t t\w tN>nio\iil ii{ ;\ |iiirti<\ii of tlio
l><Mi>w >i|' (lii> lii>r>n>'K t.iil, mi fill' I'iMiii luMiij; ii
HiilVii«,»i>l .•»j;iiii\H( tin' iiiti'lfoiviiiH' lit till' ri'iiiK
ill iln\ iujj, n\oiviiso» tlio iliuini'r o( nooiili iit fi-<mi
lliis Oiiuso, iii.iNiiiiii'li IIS llio |>tntj« iii'<> iiiiiii- N II
sitivc mill I lid tjiil mmU> U>»«i lloxililo I'v ltn>

O|l0>N»t|ill>

" ;*. rii.it tlio iiiiitniiit of l.iliiiv Mfivoil -ir tlio
,'i<{>h(ii>ii;il • UmiiHiiosm sov'iin'il llioioliy, iiic i'\
oiisos (iin tiniiil t<i 1h< I'oiixiili'ivil,

"4. rii:Vt I'listoiil iloos not iii:iU<> NUv>li lliillilii-
ti.m iMV5v«>;ny or in iu\\ si-iimo jnstilinliNv

"A, riiiit tho rtiiiiiiil i,s tliori'tiy fotvi-ic ili>-
{irivoil of tlio imtmtil iiuviiis of piMli'i-tiiij; itwcll
*ii;viii!>t iiisoit*. « hill- t!\o iIi-IivmIo |»,ivts lioiicatli
till' t«il ,iiY inuus'os,»jirily t-vjiosoil.

"(V lliiit tho ojy'r;itioii is in itsi-lf onii'l, in
rtiotiiiu jviiii jiiivl sutV.. ; liijj for n loiisiiUialiU'
K'Ujith ot tiino. iiii.l iv. oni> not uiiiittoiuloil liy
tt.>nj;xn- :iiul fatal >Mnsi~nnoi»iHi«."

Tho foUowi'iji ivm uks also liriolly siviiun \rixo
tho l\A«l otVoots <<f this anti luiiiiiuio oiistoin:

•■ Tho (Kvkiiii, or oiittiiii: olV tho tjiils of horsos
is J* oniolty that la.*t# tliiMugli lifo. Tlioy oaii
novor. aftor this oriul oi>oration. hrusli oil" tho
tiios aiui ino»(jiiit«H-s tiiat will niako tiioir lito
every sunimcr a torment,"

Clipptng a Horse's Coat.

Clipping is e>-en i«oro IvirKuMus than >look
i»\^, l>y it, in onUl \ve;»thor, « horso oan ho
ohillwt t^^ death in a very short tinio. The Into
Mr. l>or):h, of Xow Y-n-k. issmsl i« stmng np-
{xvitl on this suhjtvt. .ind ;»^>inst tho praotioo as
.<i cruel and di*;>striius one. Ho ij notes the
following to suppoart his appeal : —

'•M«yhevr. in his great work. Ss-iys: 'ClipfH^l
or Mng*d horses are thereby rendere^l susoepti-
bl« to ownv disorvlers. Any intern.al organ knay

tin m>iiti>ly ivllin'lii'il, I niiati Ijin |iiir<)|t||'ii|iiiii

him, liy ii\|i<miiiii III iliii xliln, iiiiun iIhumii ImJi
ll|ioll tlio n\ hIoiii '

"\olliitt, iiliollli'l liliili iiiillinrKy, niiV'H' 'Am
(■1 llio jiitvi'lioo 111' o|l|ililiii{ iiiiij pIiiivIiih llio
ImiMO, II oi'OilNinliM I'lilllliifi iif Ihii I'liiiiii', i'«
liiiimtliin III vllikt pniiiir, ninl ijiiliuol'iiiifi r(>Hi<
tioiiH of foM (• '

" » ;iot>ii' lliiiM bIioi II,' iiH Miiylli'M Miiyn, 'In
IV ili'follllily (III I'litoi Ih iiiiiiiiliii:'l, Hill oihif
U illlll illiil Htiililiiii II loiiliili^-, iiiml '.iiilllio lliiil
poll»lii'il Hill rail' \i liii'li In iiiitno 111 tho lioniillliil
i|llilill'll|ii<il. '

" It IwiH 'ii'oii ii'ii'iil'liiiiiiul ill Mimtiiii tliiil II
hoi'HO t Illlll nlliivoil III i'li|i|ii>il Mill iiiil liMMOri
^Aoir f/f(liJi. 'I'lio iiliiiiiiofiil loniilliiiil llilu iilioiii
illillilo 01 liolty to tlio nil lilt iiMoliil I if nil llio Inn oi
iiliiiiialx mo loo iiiiiiioi HUM to iiii>iil inn. A fiiiiiniiH
Voloiiiimy miininn of l\iin(M|i!n Inlil iiio noiiio
tiino ouo that tlnoo lino linruiH lin.l iiml ilioil,
to IiIm fuioM loiljjo, nil iiijj 111 o|||i|iiiin I Illlll I will
ooiii'liiilo tliiii ii|i|ioal 111 nil hiiiiiniiolv iiioliiio I
p >o<ilo, 'I III! ooiiliniially fool linw imlUiioiiMiilili'

to tllOIIIHolvoH mo flllH mill olnlll, III llill ill jllll

ling an oinl In tho alioiiilnalilo innotioo,

" Ml'. A, V. N'lin Itiiron'n Iioiho loll iloml n Nlimt
tinio Hiiioo in tho Hti'ooiNof liiiiiiloiit, N.\. A
poHt iiioi'loin ovaiiiiii itinii kIiiiMoiI IIuiI llio aii
lolls of tlio Inn ;;m nolo llllo.l i\ illi ol, ill oil liloml ;
otliorw i:<o tlio iiniiiiiil \i,im hi |ioifoil IiomIIIi."

All Appeal lor Diiinb AititiiAla,

Vo oall tlioin ilmiili, iiinl ilooiii it noil,
llowo'or llioir lini'Mtinu hoints iiniy hwoII,
riioy hivvn no vnioo tlioir wooh (n loll,

,\i faliiilintu liiivo ilromiioil.
riioy oaini it I'ly, '•() |,oiil, liow long
Wilt Tlioii, tho pvtiont. .Iinlgo iiinl Htioiiji,
llolii'lil Thy oroatnioM nuIIoi- wrong

Of thoHo riiy lihioil roih loil ?"

Not aro tl-.oy Nilont? Nooil tlioy h|ioooIi

Ills holy syiiipatliioN to roaoli,

Willi liy tlioir lip.i ooiilil pio|iliotM toaoli,

Aiiil for tiniir mikoH would Hparo;
Wlioii, wroslliiig with Mi.-, own dooroo,
To save ropontant Ninoioli,
llo foiiiul, to stroiigthoil llloroy'» ploa,

"So iiianv oaftlo" tlioro ?

Have tlioy no langiiagof .Vii'^ols know,
Who taki' aoooiin' of ovory Mow ;
And tlioro aro aiigol hoailN liolnw

On whom the l'',toriial l>ovo
Hi* Penteoostiil gift hath ponrod,
And that forgotfoii .sjioooh ro.Htorod
That tilled the ganloii of tho Lord

When Nfttnro'is voioo wa.s lovo !

Oh. blest are they tlie oroatiircs hlosa I
And yet that wealth of teudoriiess,
In look, in gesture, in caress.
By which our hearts thoy touch,

f'l(IM',t,TV lo lldilMKH.

MIfjIll Wnll llio llliiM'jIilflll Dlllt'lt. MI'll'V*',
Iti'lli'vlliK IWt ttl- iiiiimI lioliovii
lloW lillll' tlll'V fll'lll IMMM IIMMilVd,
'I'll wIlMlli llli'V M'^'" **" OIIII'll I

'riiiiy niiiy I'" "lli'iit., iin V" •"'•.V'l
Hill wiiK t.ii llii'Mi wliii, liny liy 'I'ly.
t Inlliliildn^ fur wliiil. Iiniiii l.lii'V |ii'ity,
lli'|ii'iil, " Tliy liliiHiliiiii I'liiiii'. "

Willi, vv'ii'ii iii'fiiiii Mill ^^vl'l\.l h'iiim 'riiriiiiii

'I'liiiy |iliiiiil Him I. iiii'i'iiy liiiiy lin mIiiiwii,
l''lllil iiwflll Viilri'ii iliiiwil Minlr own
I Iki viili'iiM III I.Imi iIiiiiiIi I

<"> (hr^il W'in'ilt,

Tlif ttuinnnn Morlnty IrimtH thnf, t'lln "iiiiprjal"
V. Ill fliiil nil niilio III l,lin linarlN of nil wliii rniul It.

Iloinns Uiicovai'cd in Siiuw mikI I^mIii.
1 1 In It I'ltiiiiiiiiii ;it'iii'lli'ii, i|iilt<ii Inn I'liiiniiiiii,

fill' |M<l>'llllll In llMlVli llll'if IllUNCH Illll'IIVIIt'llll, (iVI'll
illll'llIU Ni<Vi<l'i< HlinW, mIiii'I, nr I'liill Ntni'lim, 'I'liiii
Innfliiii UiiiilglillKNnly (liiiiii. Ami, KM
il In |ili'iiiliil, III I'xi'iiMi', "iiiily jiiHl, for
II luw iniiiiiti'pi, wliili' I I'liri ill lii'i'i'."
ThJN U t.lin iiiiiml.iiiit KHrimii fni' Niirli

rlU'cli'KK llt'^lci'l,. Mull' fl<'i|ii(lil.ly II,
Ik iIiiiiii liy lliiinn wlin (mm itiillciil.i'il ill
tllU l'll^l'livill){) fl'l'ljlll'llt MIllllDIIM nr

tiiviiriiM III l.iiwii or riiiiiilry. Tim
fniiitiit oll'iirln rf Mill JKirmi tn frcti liiin-
Ki'lf finill Mil' ilii'Xiiliilili' |)iihI., In wllii'il
III! Ill Inn HiM'lll'i'ly ilIIivi-IiimI, I'liiilinl
l.ill III uwaUrii IIki Hyin|iiilliy nf itny

mil' wl'ii liiiH I II iM,ii}{lil. Ill H ili'lviii;^

Hini'lli nf hIi'i'I. nr ruin, hihI Iiiih IihiI,

(ivi'ii iiiilriiiiiMii'lli'il liy liny "in'li iln-
vidc, In li^lit. liJM wiiy tlii'iill^li it t.n IiIm
collifnrlalili! limi.n.

Willi a \ ii'w l.o infniin, iiH w ^1! UH raiil.inn, |ii!r- IiIm vay arnon;,' Uki crnwd, Uii;i,l>I<: to '■ndiir'!
nniiH aj;ainHt hiuIi a |iia"lii^(!, tlin 'I'nrniitn llii- tliin hccih; for a iiiniiiciit, tin: Qiia!i':r •tp|<rn;w:h<i'l

IiIn iKMlUlltlnit mill mmviii'm (iII'iiI'Ih Hi U, In m|iII.i< nt
tllii Miijil, llii Wan iinvi'I'Kil wllli nwi'iit iilnl fn'iJii,
Nnw, tliinwill { lillllNi'lf Intn liln inlliit vvll.ll iti'M
liiTalii I'Ki'i l.lnti, III' Iil;^l4«il nil that tlin iil<flli'*i
lii'liiiatli IiIn fi'i't tliriiw nut N|mi'l<N nf flinj m'iW,
far fi'iiMi lii'lnu illNi'niirau"<li li" liarkml a fMW
|iiM'i'M tn talti' IiH'ilIIi, aiii| ii^alM IiImI, liiit In
vain, In ilraw lilw Iniul, 'Iwi'i' illil Im noarly
fall, IiIn kiMoiH tniii'liiul tliti |Mtv(<irMiiit | tlMi i!iir>,<'i'
irilniiil lilni liy III" lilt, li'avlii|{ tin' inniitli nf tin'
aiiiniii.1 niw ami lili'iuliii)^. A tliiiil time, aftm
a vinli'iit I'llnrt, Im fi'll nil liln l<m'"M, nnn li't( Mtl'
liiii;<li'il lii'iiiiatli liini) Im ciiiilil nut re rnver liiiri'
Ni'lf, lint f"ll nil liln nlilti, wimrti Im lay trrniMiiiM,
liatlii'il In nwrat, ami liin nyin lUi'il nn liln luiital
nwiii'l. 'I ii» ra({i< nf liin nianti'r tlirn kiK'W nn
ImiiiihImi aii'l aftiir limaklitK IiIn whl|i (;VMr tho
lii'itil nf tim linrni- wlili'li, ki'fft il'iwn liy tlii'
nliafin, lay Krnanini,; nn tlin nt^nim't, Im ti>'|,;aii
kli'liin({ till' iinfnrtiiiiatii animal nn tlin .'."mtrtln.
At tliiH III iini'lit II. l/iiakm ntn|i|iiti|, a>|i| |iimli(;<l

j..>'v*':

■^^^^fi^''

t'NMIIKI/rKllKlf VWm TIIK MTOUM.

liiaiio .Sni-i(!ty lian inMiiitil tint f(t!lowiii;{ card :

"Tim 'I'nrniitn Ililliiaim Snriiily (tailtiniiH all
ilriviM'H ajiiiiiist llii' rnirily nf liMiviii^f linrHiM
Ktiiliilin)4 nil tin: Hlliirt III cnlil wiatliir witliniit
)irii|li';' cnvirillL' If tin: nflciiri: ih |iiiHiMti:<l in,
tin: nliii rr nf tin: Sniicty Ih iiiMtrinliil tn proHi!
ctlti' till' liai'ty nr |iarti(:H nHi:iii|iii;^.''

till! i;art,<;r ami t.nnk liiin liy tin: arm, who ti)rn»i<l

with a }w\v.ii:\\\n Innk. " l"'ri<:inl,'' laiil th':

tjjiiakcr ill a lalin tnm:, H.hn'.vinK tlm <,'art';f' flf-

U:t It /oiiIh il'or, v/hich !i<; ln:l'l in hiH harnl, "wilt

tlinii Hi!ll nn: thy hnrH»: fnr tliin j^nl'l ?" " What

i|nyi:May''" iii'|iiiri:il tin; carter ; " will yf; jfiv;

nn: that Hiiiii fnr tin; hriiti!?' " Pift'uri liiiiin"

H.'iiil tin; Qiiaki:r. " lint why MliniiM yc buy th#;

linrm;?" " 'J'liat Ik nothing to tlii;<; If th'jii

Ki'lh'Ht thy hnrm;, thco iiiiiKt iinl»;ul thy cart,

unhuni'.iH tin; hnrw; ami aHHint hirn tn rin*;. "

'I In; I'jii ti:r Maid, " It Im a har^aiii.' " 1 hen un-

Mliai:klr tin; Jinnr liorHi:, for he Ih f.TU»h';d hy the

v-ei^lit nf lii'4 hiirden.' The byHt(ind«'r« lent

tln:ir aid tn free the hnrne. The j^'or animal

laden with wnnd, was uttcily tiiialile tn advan':o ^aw hleediiig in many jila<^;eH, and wm\i wan hi«

a step forward, while the carter, a powerful fel- terror of the carter th'it Im; treinldi,-*! at hia ap-

low, was lielahnriiiK the p<inr brute witli hi» proach " IJiit I eannnt U-U why you Uught

, , ■ ., 1 • I ■ .ti I 1 •»! tn« "Id brute, said the carter. "I can tell

heavy whip, stnkm- hnn over the hea.l with ^^^^, j^ ^^^ j,, ,^^^_. j,j,„ f^,„„ ^^^ ^^^, ^^^

relentless furncity. Ureatliless, and struggling \ J^jught him," replied the Quaker.— i'uir'.n*
violently, the poor horse waH io exhausted by Hue.

Why the Quaker Bought a Horse.

Durin;.,' niii' wiiit-'r in Kriiiici; the pav::nn:ntH
beiaiiu: very Hlippciy by the frost, and did nnt
present any Imld fnr the liorHes' feet. One nf
these aniniiils, Imriiessed tn a large cart Imavily

v,;«;-.

THP: TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

III. ANECDOTES, APPEALS AND SUGGESTIONS.

The Bell of Atri.

A beautiful story is told tliat in one of the old
cities of Italy the King caused a l)ull to be hung
in a tower in one of the public squares, and
called it a " IJuU of Justice," and commanded
that any one who had been wronged should go
an<l ring the bell, and so call the magistrate of
the city and ask and receive justice.

And when, in course of time, the bell-rope
rotted away, a wild vine was tied to it to
lengthen it ; and one day an old and starving
horse, that had been abandoned by its owner
and turned out to die, wandered into the tower,
and, in trying to cat the vine, rang the boll.
And the magistrate of the city, coming to see
wiio had rung the bell, found this old ana starv-
i'.g horse. And he caused the owner of the
horse, in whose service he had toiled and been
worn out, to be summoned before him, and de-
creed that, as this poor iiorse had rung the

Let him go feed upon the public ways ;

I want him only for thu h(jlidays. ''

So the old steed was turned into the heat

Of the long, lonely, "ilent, shadeless street ;

And wandered in suburban lanes forlorn.

Barked at by dogs, and torn by briev and thorn.

One afternoon, as in that sultry clime

It is the cusl m in the summer time,

With bolted doors and window-shutters closcil,

The inhabitants of Atri slept or dozed ;

When suddenly upon their senses fell

Tlie loud alai'um of the accusing 1-ell !

The Syndic started from his deep repose, [rose

Turned on hia couch, and listened, and then

And donned his robes, and with reluctant pace

Went panting forth into the market-place,

Am
Inf
Wit
To

THE iKIA, OF ATRI.

" Bell of Justice," he should have justice, and
that during the horse's life hia owner should
provide for liim proper food, and drink, and
stable.

The poet Longfellow thus tells the story of
the Knight of Atri and his steed in verse :

He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds,
Rented his vineyards and his garden-grounds.
Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all,
To starve and shiver in a naked stall.
And d.iy by day sat brooding in his chair,
Devising plans how best to hoard and spare.

At length he said ; " What is the use or i d
To keep at my own cost this lazy steed.
Eating his head olf in my stables hero,
When rents arc low and provender is dear ?

Whore the great bell upon its cross-beam swung

Reiterating with persistent tongue.

In half articulate jargon, the old song :

" Some one hath done a wrong, hath done a

wrong !"
But ere he reached the belfry's light arcade
He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade,
No shape of human form of woman born.
But a poor steed dejected and fo.iorn.
Who with uplifte-' head and eager eye
Was tugging at the vines of briony.
"Domeneddio !" cried the Syndic straight,
"This is the Knight of Atri's steed of state I
He calls for justice, being sore distressed.
And pleads his cause as loudly as the best."

.Meanwhile from street and lane a noisy crowj
Had rolled together like a summer cloud,

TheK
Did no
Treatei
And se

ANECDOTES, APPEALS AND SUGGESTIONS. 26

And told the story of the wretched beast Maintaining, in an angry nndertone,

In five-audtwenty different ways at least. That he should do wiiat plcasu'l liim with hia

With much gesticulation and appeal own.

To heathen gods, in their excessive zeal. And thereupon the Syndic gravely read

THE HOUSE PULLINO THE BELL OF JUSTICE.

The Knight was called and questioned ; in reply The proclamation of the King , then said :

Did not confess the fact, did not deny ; " Prid goeth forth on horseback grand an<i
Treated the matter as a pleasant jest, K-'^yi

And set at naught the Syndic and the rest, ^ Dut coni^th back on foot, and begs its way;

uf 7^'-

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Fame is the fragrance of lieroic deeds,
Of fiowers of chivalry and not of weeds !
These are fiinuliar j)roverl)8 ; but I fear
They never yet have readied your knightly ear.
What fair renown, what honor, what repute.
Can conic to you from starving this poor brute ;
He who serves well and h|) -iks not merits more
Than they who clamor loudest at the door?
Therefore the law decrees that as this steed
Served you in youth, henccfortli you sliall take

heed
To comfort his old age, and to provide
Shelter in stall, and food and field beside. "

The Knight withdrew abashed ; tlie people all

Filling souls with pity
For the dumb and weak.

Telling all the voiceless
We for them will speak.

Ring the bells of mercy

Over hill and plain.
Let tlu! ancient mountains

Chant the glad refrain,
For where man abideth.

Or creature God hath made,
Laws of love and kindness
'On each soul are laid.

Ring the bells of mercy
Over laud and sea,

STAY AND SUPPORT OF THE FAMILY.

Led home the steed in triumph to his stall.
The King heard and approved, and laughed in

glee.
And cried aloud : " Right well it pleaseth mc I
Church-bells at best but ring us to the door ;
But go not in to mass ; my bell doth more :
It cometh into coi.iu luid jdeads the cause
Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws ;
And this shall make, in every Christian clime,
'The bell of Atri famous for all time.

Ring the Bells of ^^ ercy.

Ring the bells of mercy.
Ring them loud and clear,

Let their music linger
Softly on the ear.

Let the waiting millions

Join the jubilee ;
Peace on earth descending

Fill the human breast.
Giving to the weary

Sweet and blessed rest.

— Anon.

"Stay and Support of the Family."

The accompanying engraving illustrates a
touching story in the early career of Mr. Henry
Bergh, of New Yorlc. It is given in one of the
early numbers of the magazine now published
by the Century Company of New York.

In its account of " Mr. Henry Bergh and his
work," the article states that one day he saw
from his window a skeleton horse, scarcely able

ANECDOTES, APPEALS AND SUGGESTIONS.

to II raw a rickety waggon. Thu poverty-stricken
driver walked behind it. Mr. Bergli haatened
out, and said to the driver:

" You ought not to compel this horse to work
in liis present condition."

"I know that," answered the man; "but,"
said he, " look at tlie horse and tlie hainess
and then look at me, and say, if you can, wiiicli
of us is most wrotciicd " TIkui he drew up the
sliirt-sleeve of one arm, and continued : " Look
at this shrunken arm, past use ; and, besides
that, I have a wife and two cidldren at home
as wretched as we are liere, ami just as hungry.
Come and see them."

So they went, both together, and saw the
wife and children.

Afier a brief conversation, tlie wife, with the
natural and untutored eloquence of grief and
want, put the case even more touchingly to Mr.
iJergli than did her huaoand, who stood by
while she told their whole pitiful story.

"Come with mc," said Mr. Bergh to the
Mian, "1 have a stable down tl>e street. Come
luid let me give one good square meal to your
poor horse, and something to yourself and
family."

So they went, and Mr. I'ergh placed hay and
oats before " the stay of the family," and a
generous sum of money in the hand of the man.

The Society would like to help in such sad
cases, had it the means to do so. It needs money.

Dandy Jack, the Pony.

" The little white pony owned by the wife of
Rev. Dr. Crane died recently. Years ago he
was a favorite with children who attended P.
T. Uarnum's show, lie was known as " Dandy
.lack," and performed a number of tricks. He
would nod yes or no in reply to questions,
lie down and roll over, get upon his knees, kick
when commanded to do so, and perforin other
antics. For several years he was diiven about
Asbury Park, Ocean (i rove and Ocean Park, by
Mrs. Crane. He was very iond of children,
and would play witli them like a big dog. He
was more than twenty years old. He luul been
almost blind for about two years. "

Be Merciful to the Horse.

Do tlie l)easts of burden that strive and groan.
And writhe and crouch 'neath tie pitiless rod,

Are they never allowed to lift their cry.
And lay their wrongs at the feet of God?

All day I've watched from my window high
The infamous street where the horsewhips
hiss,

And I ask myself will the day e'er come
When men will answer for all of this ?

For I saw a horse with starting eyes.

With straining nerves and a throbbing flank ;

I saw him strive till his strongtii gave out,
And ho on tht; murderous pavement sank.

I heard a curse from a lower beast;

1 heard his wliip-liiMli crack liki^ shot;
I watched and heard till my heart was sore.

And I felt the blood in my veins grow hot.

Thou wretch with the whip, aemember this—
Remend)er, thou knight of the curse and rod.

The voiceless cry of a stricken beast
Is heard by the pitying ears of (iod !

— Till' Khan, in the Torouto Telegram.

Horses' Revenge for C-uel Treatment.

Mr. G. T. Angell, President of the Massa-
chusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals, gives these examples of horses'
revenge : —

ExAMPLF. 1. — " Horses' know when they are
badly treated. I u.scd to drive a very spirited,
but perfectly safe, lior.se, which I never struck
with a whip. One day whei; the horse was tied
at a neighlior's, some young people thought it
would be a good joke to ha^e a tree ride. The
lior.se would not have minded that ; but the Hist
tiling they did wus to strike him with the whip.
He gave t'lcin a good deal faster ride than they
wanted, and at the next street-corner upset the
carriage and eiiiptiud tlieiii out ; then he ran a
few rods further, and tlicn*sto))ped mid com-
menced (piietly eating the grass by the side of
the road. Those young jicople received a lesson
on the imporuiiicc of treating an intelligent and
spirited horse kindly which they will never
forget.

" I used to drive another horse as spirited as
the one I have just told you about, and 1 always
treated him kindly. One day he was trotting
down a steep hill near Boston, with a heavy
two-.seated carriage, when both the hold-backs
broke and the carriage came upon him. He
stopped alino.^t instantly, and held the carriage
until all could get out. Do you think if he had
been used to being wliipjied and cruelly treated,
li( would have done that?"

Example "2. — A friend also sends the follow-
ing illustrative description of a trick which is
often playeil in the streiits. Let employers and
parents ask their boys if they jiractise it: —

" A mischievous boy, passing alongside a horse
staniliiig by the sidewalk, gives the horse a sharp
jMiiicli in tile ribs, apparently for the mere satis-
faction of seeing the animal bite. This trick is
generally performed Ijy such boys as are em-
ployed by the city firms for errand boys.

"One consideration that strikes nie in this
connection is this: the teamster or driver uses
all care for a long time to make and keep his
horse kind and manageable. When this task
has been fully accomiilishcd, along comes one

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY. I

of these youni^sters, and apoils the work of
months or yeiirs.

" Horses iiiiiy in this way be taught to bite
in a very siiort time, and tlieir attacks in crowded
streets become dan^/'rous to persons not acciia-
tomed to watching tor them. '

ExAMl>l,K. 3. — "Take a fine, noble-spirited
horse, cut off the liair of liis tail bob short, ])\it
him in harness with a short check-rein, liitcli
him in the sun where the thermometer is as high
as ninety, and where Hies are ])lenty. If he is
a liorso of common sense, he will take the first
opportunity to run away and destroy your car-
riage, and possil)ly dash out your brains or dis-
able you for life."

Deceiving a Horse when Catching Him.

A ]ierson near Boston was in the habit, wiien-
ever he wished to catch his horse in the field,
of taking a quantity of com in a measure by
way of bait. On calling to him the horse would
come up and eat corn while the bridle was put
over his head.

Piut the owner deceived the animal several
times at intervals, by calling him when lie had
no corn in tlie measure. The horse, coming up
one day as usual, on being called, looked into
the measure, and, seeing it empty, reared on
his hind legs, and striking with his fore feet,
killed his master on the spot. — MarciiM WUlson.

Catching Beautiful Beck.

With forehead star and silver tail,
And three white feet to match.

The gay, half -broken sorrel colt —
Which one of us could catch ?

"I can," said Dick; " I'm good for that."
He slowly shook his empty hat.
" She'll think 'tis full of corn," said he ;
"Stand back, and she will come to me."

Her head the shy, proud creature raised,

As 'mid the daisy flowers she grazed ,

Then down the hill, across the brook.

Delaying oft, her way she took ;

Then changed her pace, and moving quick.

She hurried on, and came to Dick.

"Ha! ha!" he cried, "I caught you, Beck!"

And put the halter round her neck.

But soon there came another day,

And, eager for a ride —
" I'll go and catch the colt again :

I can," said Dick, with pride.

So up the stony pasture lane.
And up the hill he trudged again ;
And when he saw tlie colt, as slow
He shook his old liat to and fro.

" She'll think 'tis full of corn," he thought,
"And I shall have her quickly caught.
"Beck! Beck!" he called; and at the sound
The restless beauty looked around.
Then made a cpiick, impatient turn,
And galloped off among the fern.
And when beneatli a tree she stopped,
And leisurely some clover cropped,
Dick followed after, but in vain;
His hand was just upon her mane.
When off she flies, as flies the wind.
And, panting, he pressed on again.
Down througli the brake, the brook across,
O'er bushes, tldstles, mounds of moss.
Round and around the place they passed.
Till, breathless, Dick sank down at last;
Threw by. provoked, his empty iu;t, —
"The colt," he said, "remembers that!
There's alv/ays trouble from deceit ;
I'll never try again to cheat ! "

— Marion Douglass,

The Horse Byron and Teasing Jack.

Jack was a boy full of fun and frolic. Byron
was a large white horse. Both lived and worked
on Grandma Hudson's farm.

Jack had a habit that Byron did not like.
While he was eating his hay and v. /n Jack
would stand in front of the stall and tease him
by making all sorts of ugly grimaces at him.

Jack thought it fine fnn to see Byron get
angry and try to bite him through the bars of
the stall.

Uncle George had often reproved Jack for
this bad habit, telling him that the hor'se would
hurt him some time if he continued such conduct.

One day, when Uncle George was away. Jack
went into the stable to bridle Byron and lead
him to the well. But, as he was reaching up
to take hold of his mane, Byron opened his
mouth, seized Jack by his thick, curly hair,
lifted him from the floor, and walked leisurely
out with him into the barnyard.

Grandma Hudson heard a loud scream, ar\
ran to the kitchen door to see what was me
matter. There was Byron, with Jack hang-
ing from his mouth, marching across the yard ;
he was not trying to hurt the boy, but only
giving him a vigorous shake now and then, to
show him what he could do if he persisted in
teasing him any more. When the horse had
punished him sufficiently he dropped him on
the ground and trotted away to the well.

In this novel but effective way Jack was
taught to leave off the dangerous, if not cruel,
habit of teasing animals. — Lillian AT. D.

CRUKLTV TO AXIMALS GKNERALLY.

Unconsciously Cruel to a Horse.

On MadiMon street one day I paused to pat
the nose of a beautiful horso wliioh stood by
the curb, and ooinmiHserate his iiiisfortuuu ; for
ttiis beautiful animal, though sleek uf cout and
shapely in body ami limb, was ap[>arently suf-
fering most excruciating torture. His head had
been checked inhumanely high, and the cruel
Itit, drawing tightly in his nu)uth, disfigured an
animal face of unusual charm and intelligence.
1 was just fancying that the horse had begun
t(j understand and appreciate my words of sym-
pathy, when the lady who sat in the carriage
holding the reins fumbled in her pocket, pro-
duced a lump of white sugar, and asked me to
give it to the horse.

"He is very fond of sugar," she explained,
"and I have quite won his heort by feeding it
to him. I always carry sugar in my pocket
while out driving, and give him a lump at every
opportunity. Will you please give him another
lump?"

"Certainly," I replied; "I see that you are
quite as fond of the horse a) he is of sweets."

" Yes, I think everything of him."

"Thou why do you torture him?"

" 'J'orture my I'rinco?"

" Yes, thp.il is just what you are doing. Do
you not know that the poor animal sull'ers agony
because his head is checked so unnaturally high?
His neck is drawn out straight, ^)roducing a
most un^n'aceful angle, he hol(i.s his head awk-
wardly, tlie bit is hurting his mouth, and that
graceful curvature of neck and carriage of head
which are in his nature are now entirely lost.
Why do you check him so high ?"

She didn't know. She was not aware that
high checking was a source of pain to horses,
nor that it destroyed their natural beauty. She
was anuized at the discovery.

"May 1 trouble you to loosen his check?"
she asked.

"When the trap was unsnappcd the horse
inmiediately lowered his head, straightened the
cramps out of his handsome neck, shook him-
self to make sure that he had actually been re-
leased from bondage, and then looked round
with such a grateful, delighted expression in
his intelligent eyes that his mistress declared
no more checking straps should be used upon
him. — Chkaijo Herald.

IV. CRUELTY TO ANIMALS GENERALLY.

" Maker of earth and sea and sky,

Creation's Sovereign, Lord and King,
Who hung the starry worlds on high.

And formed alike tho sparrow's wing;
Bless the dumb creatures of Thy care.
And listen to their voiceless prayer."

— Emily B. Lord.

What Creatures are Generally Ill-treated.
The form which cruelty to animals in general
takes may be briefly summarized as follows : —

" 1. To Cattle, Sheep, Swink and Podl-
TKY. — There is much thoughtless and some

malicious cruelty to cattle, sheep, swine, and
poultry, in their keeping, carrying, and driv-
ing, and in their slaughter for the purposes of
food. Cows and beef cattle are kept for months
without exercise, or care. Suckling calves are
shipped in close, filthy stables, witliout proper
food, to market, and kept without food for from
twelve to eighty and one hundred hours. Such
cruelty reacts upon society, resulting in sick-
ness, and sometimes in death, both to children
who use milk and to adults who eat flesh.

"2. To Insectivorous AND other Birds. —
Tlie safety of our crops depends greatly upon
the preservation of insect-eating birds, while
the beauty of our homes and the pleasures of
outtloor life are largely due to the ministry of
our birds of song. Vet, through indulgence in
wanton sport, and owing chiefly to an inexpli-
cable caprice of fashion among ladies, which
demands the bodies and plumage of birds for
ornamental purposes, all birds are rapidly de-
creasing in numbers, and many varieties seem
likely to become extinct unless they are pro-
perly protected.

"3. To Doas, Fowls, Rats, Pioeons fob

THE TORONTO UUMANK SOCIKTY.

SO-CALLED 'Si'oRT.'— Doj{-figlitiiijt{, i-dck -fight-
ing, rat-baiting, pigoon-Hhooting, und otiior
brutal uxliibitioHH of tlio kin<l, iiro 8till ouuii-
Bional (K'currencL'H. TIiuh tlio natural iimtinctH
of animals are madu to pander to the nuilioioUH

KILLING BIRDS FOR AMtTBliMENTl

tendencies of man, and by such means the pni-
nials are tortured, while the spectators are
deeply degraded and hardened.

" To DiKFERKNT Kinds of Animals.— There
are many other forms of cruelty, abuse, and
neglect, to which diflercut kinds of animals are
often or occasionally subjected."

Do Animals Suffer?

It needs no demonstration to prove that ani-
mals suffer greatly. Eight Imndred thousand
cattle are reported to have died on the. Western
plains in one winter — stai'ved to death, because
their owners provided no food; frozen to death,
because they provided no shelter. In conse-
quence of this terrible neglect, a Bill has been
introduced into the United States House of
Representatives by Mr. Collins to protect dumb
animals in the Territories.

In a letter from Montana it is stated that —

" The overloading of work animals, and the
total abandonment of the ranch cattle to their
fate, whereby tens of thousands every year
freeze an<l starve to death, call for the imme-
diate attention of humanitarians. These cattle
do not die suddenly, but linger for weeks, freez-
ing and starving to death by inches, while their
inhuman owners are by warm fires, and, in some
instances I have heard of, gambling with each
other on the probable percentage of loss. The
great majority of our cattle men seem perfectly
indifferent to the suffering of their animals pro-
viding a sufficient number survive to return a
profit on the investment."

Hundreds of thousands of all kinds of ani-
mals are slaughtered for food in ways most bar-
barous, when all could be killed without fore-
knowledge, and almost without pain.

The Plea of the Suffering: Creatures.

Oh ! that they had pity, the men we serve ■<>
truly !
Oh ! that they had kindness, the men we love
so well !
They t^all us tluU and stupid, and vlcioua and
unruly,
An<l think not we can suffer, but only would
rebel.

They brand us and they beat us; they spill our
lilood like water;
We tlie, that they might live, ten thousand
in a day !
Oh I that they had mercy ! for in their dona of
slaughter
They afflict us, tliey affright us, and do far
worse thjvn slay.

.We are made to be their servants —we know it,
and complain not ;
We bow our necks with meekness, the galling
yoke to bear.
Their heaviest toil we lighten, the meanest wo
disdain not;
In all their sweat and labor, we take a will-
ing share.

It may have been intended that we toil in ser-
vile stations.
To meekly bear man's burthen, to watch be-
side his door ;
They are of earth the masters, and we their
poor relations.
Who grudge tliem not their greatness, but
help to make it more.

And in return we humbly ask that they would
I indly use us
For t.i. purposes of service, for to that end
were we made ;
That they would teach their children to love
and not abuse us.
So that each might face the other, and neither
be afraid.

We have a sense they know not of, or else have-
dulled by learning —
They call it instinct only, a thing of rule and
plan;
But oft when reason fails them, our clear direct
discerning.
And the love that is within us, have saved
the life of man.

If they would only love us, and would leam
our strength and weakness,
K only with our sufferings their heart would!
sympathize.

CRUELTY TO ANIMALS GENERALLY.

Tlien they would know what truth Ih, and what
patiuncu U, ui'il niuuknusH,
And read our heart's devotion in the Huftneas
of our eyes 1

— Altered from Mary How'M.

Would that this plea would touch every read-
er's heart, and lead him to aid our cause.

Pain Felt by the Lowest Organisms.

An English naturalist has made gome inter-
esting observations upoit the nervous action in
creatures of low organism. The result raises
some doul) as to the common tlieory that keen
pain is felt only by highly organized beings.

We may be too ready to e.^uuse ourselves for
the tliouglitless injury we do by assuming that
orders below us feel less pain in proportion to
the distance they seem to be removed. Ad-
mitting that the nerves of these creatures are
as sensitive as our own, we are yet apt to think
that there is no stroag nervous centre to have
a consciousness of the pain. The plienomena
reported deserve careful study. — Youth's Com-
panion.

The above article refers to sea worms, and
the naturalist cites experiments proving that
they do suffer keenly.

" I would not enter on my list of friends
(Though graced with polished manners and

fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility,) the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm."

— Cowper,

Man's Cruelty to Creatures Subject to Him.

" The fear of jou and the dread of you shall be upon
every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air,
upon all that nioveth upon the earth, and upon all the
flahes of the sea; into your hands are they delivered." —
(Jenesis ix. 2.

Such, then, is the extent of man's jurisdiction,
and with most full and wanton licence has he re-
velled amongst its privileges. The whole earth
labors and is in violence because of his cruel-
ties; and from all sentient nature there sounds
in the ear the bleat of one wide and universal
.suffering— a dreadful homage to the power of
nature's constituted lord.

These sufferings are really felt. The l>easts
of the field are so constructed as to give forth
all the naturd expression of it. Tlieso poor
animals just look and tremble and give forth
the very indications of suffering that we do.
Theirs is the distinct cry of pain. Theirs is
the unequivocal physiognomy of pain. They
put on the same aspect of terror on the demon-

stration of the mena<'«>d Idow. Tlioy cxiiibit
the same distortions of agony after the infliction
of it. The bruise, or the burn, or the fracture,
or the deep incision, or the fierce encounter with
one of e(|ual or supciior strength, just affects
tlicm Himiliirly to ourHclvos. Tlioir Mood cir-
culates as ours. Tliey sicken, they giow feeble
with age, and finally they die, just as we do.
. . . The binl whose little household has been
stolen fills and Ha<ldcns all the grove witli melo-
dies of deepest pathos. . . .

When the physiologist lays open the recesses
of their system . . . theirs ii^ an unnii.xed ami
unmitigated pain, the agonies of martyrdom,
without the alleviation of the hopes and the
sentiments whereof they are incapable. . . .
And so in that iMid of torment, where'- . tho
wo\indud animal lingei's and ex[>ircs, there is
an unexplored depth and intensity of suffering
which tlio poor dumb animal itself cannot tell,
and against which it can offer no remonstrance
— an untold and unknown amount of wretched-
ness of which no articulate voice gives utter-
ance.

Tho brute animals have all the same sensa-
tions of pain as human beings, and, conse-
quently, endure as much pain when their body
is hurt ; but in their case the cruelty of tor-
ment is greater, because they have no mind ta
bear them up against their suffering, and no
hope to look forward to wheaendurirg the last
extreme of pain. — Rev. Dr. T. Chalmers.

"The poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corporal suffering frets a pang as great
As when a giant dies. " Shakexpeare.

Tom's Cruelty and its Repaymeni,

The following is a striking illustration of that
divine truth, uttered by our Saviour, as He ap-
plied it to man's conduct, " With what measure
ye mete, it shall bo measured to you again " ; —

Tom sat at the parlor window.

Watching the people go by;
But what was lie really after?

Why, plucking the legs from a fly.

Ay, there he sat in the sunshine,

Tot :nontiiig the tiny things ;
First plucking their legs from their sockets,

Then afterwards clipping their wings.

He didn't know then that his father
Was waiting till Tom had a game ;

Then he thought he would give him a lesson.
And treat him a little the same.

THK TOKONTO IIUMANK SOC'IKIV.

80 catching hid Ron of a nnditim,

Ami |jiviii){ iiiit ulliow a twist,
He pulled at Uii\ earn till h« holloctl,

'I'lii'ii (loiilik'il him up with liiH Iliit.

Ami diiiii't he twist on thu carpet I

And didn't he c;ry out with piiin !
But whonevur liu criud " Oh, you liurt niol"
His father would punch him a<,'nin.

" VViiy, 'I'om, how amazingly funny !

You don't sooni to like it, my hoy;
And yet when you try it on otluu-a,

You always are singing for joy.

" Hush, hush 1 while I pull both your logs off,
And olip oir the half of your arm;

What you |)ruetise yourself, sure, on others,
You uan't think a sin or a harm.

"Now, Tommy, my boy," said his father,
" You'll leave thcHo pf)or creatures t\,l:.r'( ?

If not, I'll go on with my lesson " —
"I will," cried poor Tom with a groan.

No Law to Punish Drunken Cruelty.
No more striking example of the eti'ect of
treatment like that nanated in the following
paragraph could he given than is shown in the
illustration on page '20 of this ])ublicatiou. It
is only another of these too oft-recuiTing cases
of drunken cruelty: —

" A gentle, high-spirited horse, which I had
never struck with a whip in my life, was loaned
by the man who took care of liim to two young
men, to be Iriven with great care, a short dis-
tance.

"They stopped at a tavern, got drunk, and
drove the poor creature almost to death.

" He waH brought l)ack into tbe door yard,
covered with sweat and foam, so . .'ak he i:ould
hardly stand, and with such a I >'.>'. of tleapair
in his eyes as I never saw ii. e.t'icr human or
animal eyes before, and hope ne- ur to see again.

" It was only by working almost the entire
night that his life was saved.

"Iherc was then no law to punish the men
who did it, or the- man who sold them that
which made them do it."

Cruelty Cured by an Act of Cruelty.

A few weeks ago I was spending the evening
at the house of a prominent lawyer. He told
me as many as fifteen years ago he was made a
member of the Humane .Society l)y an event.
He said he had never given this matter of
cruelty much thought; had gone through his
young farm life thrashing his horse whenever
iie saw fit. He had quite a fine horse that.

when plowing, would once in a wliilo turn
around; finally ho took a club and gave the
horse quite a beating. At length hi' took up a
largo rock, weighing about three pounds, started
again in the furrow, and said if thu horse turns
around to him again ho would throw the stone
at the horse, which ho did, and knocked out an
eye. He was so shoc:ked at his inhumanity that
he went to the house and crioil. His father and
motlu^r cried also over the terrible injury wliich
the horse had received. J''rom that day ho has
nover been aware of entertaining a cruel thought
towards man, child or beast. — llUnoia Humane
Sorie.ly'ii Rijiort.

Practical Reflections on Cruelty in General.

Mr. (J. W. Curtis, one of the editors of llar-
per'a Maijazine, in his " Easy Chair " for March,
1888, says:—

"The domes Ic animals are very silent about
[the ill-treatment which they receivej. They
make little complaint, 'i'he shaved liorse which
is left standing uncovered in the icy blast until
he qiuikes with l)itter cold, but still stands un-
lliuching; or the same hapless animal whose
tail is bobbed wo that every summer insect can
sting him at will unharmed, but which ni^ithcr
kicks nor runs; the do;,' whoso ears and tail
are cut and clipped to please the fancy or fur-
ther the ])lans of his human owner, and which
is teased and whijiped and outraged under the
plea of training— would tiiey necessarily dilate
sciluctively to their comrades, still douliting and
delaying in the forest, upon the chanci^s and
advantages of human intercourse. Do they not,
indeed, appeal mutely to intelligent humim \m-
ings to consider carefully whether civilized man
is yet civilized enough to be intrusted with tht-
happiness and training and fate of animals?
Mr. iJergh evidently thinks not; and he is a
wise observer, and one of the truest of modern
benefactors and reformers. "

"That best portion of a good n-.m's life —
His little nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love —
With fragrance will perfume his name."

— A Hon.

How to Secure Gentleness in Horses.

An exchange paper says that Senator Stan-
ford, of California, has, perhaps, the finest col-
lection of horses in America. A friend, who
visited him some time since, told me they were
so gentle they would come at once to visitors to
bo talked to and petted.

"How do you contrive to have these horses
so gentle ? " said my friend.

"I never permit any man to speak unkindly
to one of my horses, and if a man swears at one
of them I discharge him," was tlie answer.

TRANSl'ORTATION' OK CATTLE, SHKEP, ETC.

V. TRANSPORTATION OF CATTLE, SHEEP, ETC.

So viut iiM booomo tlio imiiiber of iMittlc,
alioop, swino iiiiil jionltry, now Mont liy rivilwiiy
to vat'ioiiH poiiitH for traiisliipiiit'iit, or other-
wise, that in doing no, niiiuh cruelty hait Iwun
I'iiroltiHsly or wilfully iiiflict'iil on tluiHtj hclpluHH
iiniinalH. Tlio attention of Humane SoeietieH
overywlioro Iuih l)o<jn called to tiiiii practice,
anil utluctual Htuim have been taken to prevent
its continuance. In an aildreMH iit New Orleans
(II. that and kindred HubjectH, Mr. H, T. An^^ell
stated, that from seven to eight millions of
anininls in the great Chicago stock-yards are
now annually protected from cruelty, largidy
through the inllucncc of one man, whose teacher
fifty years ago, away up in the mountains of
New Hampshire, jjut into his lioyish hands
some verses on kindness to animals.

Extent of the Cattle Traffic.

It is estimated that from 8,000,000 to 10,000,-
000 of animals' are annually transported by rail
in the United States and Canada.

Mortality of Tranaported Animals.

From a careful estimate made by Mr. George
T. Angell, President of tlie Massachu.setts S. P.
C A., a competeni; judge in this matter, it has
been found that six per cent, of cattle and nine
per cent, of sheep and swine annually, or 750,-
OOO in all, die in the transport.

Sale of Dead and Diseased Animals.

A large portion of these dead animals, Mr.
Angell says, are sold in our markets, either as
meat, or rendered into cooking lard ; while the
cuttle that get through alive, for the want of
food and water, and by reason of the cruelty
inflicted upon them, after losing on the average,
in transportation, nearly a hundred pounds each
in weight, from the most juicy and nutritious
parts of the meat, come out of the cars full of
fever, and many with bruises, sores, and ulcers ;
and these, together with smaller animals, to
which the loss and suffering is, in proportion,
e(|ually great, are all sold in our markets for
food.

Dishorning Cattle for Transport.

On the plea that it is necessary to deprive
•cattle of their horns, in order that they shall
not gore and injure each other in the close rail-

way cattle vans, terrible pain is inflii^ted on
those dumb and helpless creatures. The Illinois
State Vr.hiiiiuridn thus ])oii<ts this out: —

"The bonv procosa, HU])porting the horn, is
more or loss hollow and honey-condied. These
open 8p..euM communicate with the frontal sinu-
osities, or bony eisvities of the head, which
are lineil with a very delicate and sensitivi; mu-
cous membrane. In sawing otf the horn these
cavities are lai<l open to the free access of air,
ilust, chair, etc. 1 lie operation <s especially
cruel during the colder sc.sons and in winter,
wIu'u gr(!at irritation of the sensitive mucous
membrane, thus laid bare, is unavoidable."

Dishorning Cattle Punishable in England.

In the Toronto t'm/iire of May 5th, 1888, an
article on this subject appeared, as follows: —

"The interest that many Canadian farmers
are taking in this subject makes it desirable to
give the tollowinj; information : It would seem
that the work of dishorning cattle has been
TOing on extensively in the United States. The
following letters from the Country Gentleman
speak of one man in Illinois who had himself
removed the horns from 1,800 animals, and of
profesMional operators who have dishorned their
thousands each.

" President Morrow of the University of Illi-
nois, says that cattle do not suffer pain in the
process; but, on the other hand, there is the
opinion of the London Luii'it, that the opera-
tion ought to bo prohibited by law, and that it
is now punished in England as an offence under
the laws for the prevention of cruelty to ani-
mals. "

Then follows a letter from President Morrow,
of the University of Illinois. In it he says,
that "it is evident there is considerable pain
while the operation is being performed," . . .
"but there is testimony to the fact that ani-
mals will commence eating within a few min-
ute" 'ter the work of saw or pincers has been
and that milch eow.s, as a r\de, show
sea; ely a perceptible sliiinkago of milk."

The President significantly adds. "Person-
ally I have not thought it advisable to have
the cattle uuvler my charge dishorned. I am
not an advociite of the practice."

Inhumanity in Loading Cattle.

Before the cattle reach the stock-yards they
experie ice such rough treatment that they arc
filled with terror, and start at everything they
see. It is when the loading begins, however,
that cruel treatment is rather the rule than the
exception. Armed with long poles, with barbs

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

or prods ftt the end, the cattle are driven and
hustled into the ears with violence and shout-
ing. Should they hesitate to enter, the long
pole is freely used ; and, the more timid the
animal, the more it is assaulted with the goad !
Mr. Little, agent of the American ilumano
Association, thr" describes the process of load-
ing cattle on the cars. Ho says : —

" I left Chicago Nov. 2nd oi; my line of duty
and arrived at Genesee same day. I went
directly to the stock-yards at that place, and
found them loading L.ittle. I think they prac-
tise great cruelty, botii by overloading and tor-
turing theni. In the hrst place, tliey are
expected to put the same number into each car

prod as it enters the car, until there has in most
cases about sevt.iteen cattle entered, when th -.
car appears to be full, and I think should be .so
considered ; but tlie poor unlucky three cattle
are still left on tlie platform trying to get ni,
anil the prod i^j plied and their tails rung initil
tliey are finally got inside and the door closed."

Mr. Angell, in his essay on "Cattle Trans-
portation," adds :

" At Chicago animals are driven, or (if unable
to walk) taken from the cars, and fed, watered
and rested a few hours. They are then reloaded
for the East in tlie following manner : ' The
men employed to drive them into the cars are
armed with saplings, weighing often from eight

INHUMANITY IN LOADING CATTLE.

■3!'

that arrived there in a car, which, in this case,
was tv.-enty head of cattle , and, in order to ao
this, they claim they have first to get them
excited by prodding them witli poles eight or
nine feet long, pointed with an iron prod about
one- half inch long. The cattle are turned out
of the pens into the alley, which is arranged
with plii nk runs, or walks on either side of the
fence, on which are statitmed the cow-boys or
drivers, who, by giving the cattle a puncli when-
^'vor they get a chance, gt^t thcui to running
nntil they get down to n"ar the platform from
which they are loaded, wliere tiie alley narrows
down to till widtli of a car-door, and here is
where tlie greatest cr^ olty is practised. A man
stands on each side and gives each animal a

to ten pounds, \iith sharp spikes or goads at the
end. They rusli upon tiie cattle, yelling, swear
ing and punching them with these spikes, often
twenty, thirty or forty times, taking little care
to avoid the eyes. Eighteen to twenty cattle
are thus forced into thirty-feet cars, giving less
than two feet space to the ani'iial, and not un-
frequently smaller animals — calves, sheep and
swine — are crowded under them. In this way
they are often carried for days without food,
water, or posLiibility of lying down.' Ami it
appears from various authorities that this same
system of loading and transportation prevails
over the United States, as a rule ; times of con-
finement and 8tar>''tion varying of course with
distances."

TRANSPORTATION OF CATTLE, SHEEP, ETC.

3i>

Transported Cattle as Food.

A Boston gentleman, who has carefully in-
vestigated the s'lbject of cattle transportation
froii the \Vest to our Kastern cities, visiting,
as he says, all places of importance where he
could gain informacion in regard to it, writes
that large numbers of cattle are trampled to
death jn the cars ; that larger numbers at the
end of these long routes "come reeling and
tumbling out of the cars as though blind or in-
toxicated"; that tliese dead and di8easc<l ani-
mals are dressed and sold in the markets, tlie
carcasses sometimes "full of dark-stained holes,"
mad') by the goads used in loading. He saw in
cold weather carloads of sheep without their
fleeces, shivering witli the cold. He was told
by the editor of the Live Stock Jonrwi' Dhat be
had known a wiiole train of disea za shee)) ship-
ped to Albany and tliere slr.uglitcretl for the
market; that largo nu'.ioers of hogs die in
ti'ansportation for t'.o want of water. 'J'lii?
gentleman states that he found the shrinkage
of cattle on long routes to vary from fifty to
two hundred pounds.

So deeply impressed was the American Hu-
mane Association on this subject that they ad-
dressed a memorial to Congress, praj'ing that
steps be taken to abate tJ'is evil and prevent
this dangerous state of things to longer exist.
They say: —

" Statements have been received of the bar-
barous cruelty to live stock in transit ; of tlie
cruel crowding, the struggle of the imprisoned
beasts with each other for existence, the mad-
dening hunger, the raging thirst, the goring and
trampling, the bloody pro'' of the attendant,

of meat food in the condition described. These
animals, mangled, festering with wounds, pois-
oneil with f«vers, are slaughtered and sold for
food. Mr. Edwin Lee Brown, after years of
observntion, asserts as a well ascertained fact
that considerably less than one-half of the beef
consumed in the United .Stat>.'s is i-.nlit for hu-
man food; all tliv.. rest is more than unlit; ic is.

THE TnRKl,r— HEAD UP AND FRKB.

the manglir.gs, bruisings, fevers and deaths
during the horrible journey. All these horrors
appeal strongly to our h''manity.

'' But aside from the compassion aroused for
the dumb brutes by a recital of these facts, we
are brought to consider tlie grave question of
the effect upon the public by the consumption

TORTUREn WHILE BKlNfi TUANSPORTED.

a dangerous and loathsome poison, producing a.
variety of terrilile diseases. This grave state-
ment, made by a liighly respectable and intelli-
gent gentleman, if suthcient to put the country
upon prompt and earnest official imjuiry into
the facts. "

Transportation of Sheep, Swine, etc.

What is lierein stated of cattle is equally true
of sheep, swine, calves, etc. In the case of the
latter, as also in the case of calves
and lambs, how often are they
most cruelly treated by thought-
less, careless men and boys, while
being transported in waggons to
• the place of slaughter. So also in
the case of poultry. They may
be often seen with their legs tied
together, and with heads hanging
down, carried carelessly in the
hand (see page 36)— they all the
while greatly suffering, and let-
ting their misery be known only
by inarticulate sounds of distreea
and pain. The other forms of
';/" ' cruelty to these poor creatures

^,^-"' are:—

'^~ '' IMucking fowls alive; packing

live jioultry ho closely in crates

that many of them die of sutloca-

tion , all of which things are not

only cruel to tlic animals, Init also injure the

meat, and to a greater or lesser extent endanger

the public iioalth.

On this subject, Mr. R. D. Whitehead,
Superintendent of the Wiscon I umane So-

ciety, Milwaukee, writes: —

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

" Tlio method of handling poultry now, is
not at all uniform. Poultry that is destined
for the market, is shipped in all sorts of store
and shoe boxes, and, in fact shipped in anj'-
thing hut a well constructed coop, or crate of
the proper size. I have seen in our own city,
within the past year, full grown turkeys, forced

all the seams, making the box water-tight.
The younger and weaker fowls were trodden
down and drowned.

" The mode of handling peultry thirty years
ago, especially in the South, was, with few
exceptions, more humane than the present
method. Turkeys and geese were driven along

ALAS FOB THE RARITY OF CHRISTIAN CHARITY," EVEN TO FOWI.Sl

into a box four inches high, with the cover
nailed down. Another case of extreme cruelty,
was a shipper forcing twenty geese into a small
box, throwing in a large quantity of corn-meal,
and pouring in a large cjuantity of water,
thinking tlnis to supply food and drink. Tlie
water and meal formed a ])aste, which closed

the common highways to market. They wprv3
also shipped on the decks of boats, which v^•^re
' railed in ' for this purpose.

"The principal exception was when the
wings of the fowls were locked and their legs
tied, in buncleB of from six to twelve, and
strung on a pole, to be carried on the shoulders

TRANSPORTATION OF CATTLE, SHEEP, ETC.

--tight.
rodden

Y years
th few
present
a along

icy wpvd
icii v•^^e

hen the

H'ir legs
Ivo, and
lioulders

of two men, or, thrown across a mule's back,
behind and in fiont of tlie rider."

The Society trusts that every reader of tieso
pages will aid the Society in trying to put a stop
to these cruel practices. The Society craves the
sympathy of the citizens, and their generous aid,
in the prosecution of their human3 mission.

THE DUCK AT IIOMK AM) rN"'jRTnEED.

Thoughtless and Cruel Treatment of Fowls.

From the generally thoughtless manner in
which persons carry fowls with their heads
downwards, it clear that tlie act is not dictated
so much from " cruel intent," as from thought-
lessness, or convenience. Many such persons,
if their attention were called to the fo.ct tliat
their treatment of these helpless creatures
caused them great pain, often amounting to
agony — as a look at their fi'ightened
and flashing eyes would show — they
would at once desist from such treat-
ment, and release the suffering fowls.

As a genei'al rule fowls are brought
to the market in Toronto either dead
and plucked, or alive in crates, with
slats nailed on them. The tendency
is, in order to save space and secure
convenience in transport, to make
the crates too small. Very often,
too, the fowls, even if m roomy
crates, are made to sufFer from want
of food and water, or from neglect.

Necessity for Enlightenment on
Humane Subjects.

The numerous painful facts, de-
tailed in these pages, make it neces-
sary to take some steps to counteract
the evils pointed out. This is one reason why
the Toronto Humane Society has decided to
have prepared for extensive distributior this
publication.

Amelioration in Cattle Transportation,
It is gratifying to learn from the report of the
President ot the American Humane Associa-

tion read at the Rochester meeting (1887), that
a great iiuprovement has taken place of late in
the treatment of cattle in transit. He says :--

" With the exception of the case of one or
two railroads, animals in transportation are
rested and fed and watered in accordance with
the law. In public slaughter houses, creatures
destined for liuman food, are, as a rule, killed
promptly and humanely ; and in nearly all the
larger fields of animal industry there is grow-
ing up a sense of responsibility to the public at
large. One of the marked exceptions to this
general rule is the hideous lack of care and
callous indiH'crence shown to range cattle on the
cattle fields of the West and in the common
cars. . . .

" Not only have the owners of humane cars
been increasing the number of cars under their
diHerei.i patents, and, not only arc shippers-
using more and more of these cars in the place
of the old fashioned railroad car, but the rail-
roads east of ','hicago and St. Louis have
agreed to haul and are hauling thousands of
cattle in humane cars at the same rate of freight
as in common cars.

' We regret to say, however, that the western
roads still discriminate in this matter, backed
up in their action by the Inter-State law," etc.

Steps to Prevent Cruelty in Stock- Yafds.

The American Humane Association have
taken steps to prevent cruelty to animals in
the process of transportation. First, by plac-

UUMANE SOCIETV SIGNS UJ STOCK-YAUD.S.

ing large printed signs on poles, forbidding it,
as the law directs. Secondly, by appointing
agents to see that the law on the subject is
duly observed, and that no unnecessary cruelty
is practised in the transportation of stock.

The Society solicits the co-operation and contri-
butions of humane citizens for the prosecution of
Its noble work, herein described and Illustrated.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Effect on Cattle of Cruelty and Neglect.
The Chicago Stock Reporter says : —

"There is great cruelty in transportation.
•Cars are terribly overcrowded, and animals are
carried great distances without f/od or water.
The result is, that they are take-.i out at Chicago
with bruises and sores, and legs and liorns
broken; many of them dead, and more almost
dead ; and sometimes cattle and hogs, and some-
times cattle and sheep, are packed in the same
car, which results in the smaller animals being
trampled upon by the larger. "

The Toronto Cattle Market.

On the 15th March, 1S68, Mr. J. J. Kelso,
Secretary to our Humane Society and a reporter
of the Olohp newspaper, visited the Toronto
Cattle Market, in company with Constable
Whitesides, the Humane Society's officer. Mr.
Kelso writes ; —

" In a waiting-room a number of the drovers
were having an exciting time over a dog fight,
but they hastily dispersed when the constable
put his head in at the window. The pens of

KEEPING TIRED OAITLE STANDINd BY TSE OF
SPIKE POLE.S.

cattle and pigs were only half-covered and, as
many of the animals are often left in tlie.n for
two or three days, they must have suffered a
great deal from cold during the past few
months. Tlie reporter was told that one pig
was frozen to death, but Caretaker Walker
states that it died from other causes, and the
body subsequently was frozen. In other re-
spects the animals seemed to be as well treated
as could reasonably be expected, and where
cruelty is inflicted it is generally by the young
fellows employed as drovers. Dealers will find
that it does not pay to ne<,dect their stock.
Beef cattle have a hard life of it at best. They
are taken from a farmer's comfortable barn,
driven to the station, put in poorly arranged
cf>rs, unloaded at the market with yells and
goadings, left in the open stalls for about
twenty-four hours, then perhaps reloaded and
taken to Montreal, cold, exhausted and hungry.
Mr. Walker stated to the reporter that much

needless crnelty has been prevented by the
frequent visits of the Humane ofiicer, and that
no drover ever attempts now to use the spiked
pole that formerly was in common use. "

Hard Treatment of Cattle on Shipboard.

On the 25th April, 1888, a deputation from
Toronto waited on the Hon. John Carling,
Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa. The To-
ronto World thus reports the interview : —

"In 1886 a departmental regulation was
passed, providing that cattle on board ship
were to be allowed a space not less than eight
by two and a half feet This arrangement
worked very satisfactorily during ISSG, but in
1887, it was not carried out, and the exporters
of cattle by the Canadian steamship lines com-
plain that the mortality among animals in-
creased from 2-0 of 1 per cent, to .'i. per cent.
The animals were crowded on board in a shock-
ing manner, and besides beir.g unable to lie
down during the voyage, were often bruised and
maimed to such an extent, that the value of a
bullock in Liverpool often depreciated by £5
owing to his unsoundness. In addition to
being jammed together, none of the projections
on the sides and ends of the ship were covered,
and the poor animals were often thrown against
chains, beams, and even against the boilers and
burned." (Mr. Carlii.g promised to see to it.)

"At the American ports, where cattle are
shipped, the Humane Societies have taken this
matter up, and, as a result, they are sent on
their long sea voyage under very comfortable
circumstances. "

The Barbarity of Vivisection.

"O'er all our cruel acts and plans
A silent ongel pitying stands,
And all the groans of those distressed
She treasure; in her tender breast.

" She notes the burden borne by those
Who crnnot speak their grieis or woes,
The hand upraised in anger wild
'Gainst faithful beast or helpless child.

'• And when at last her soft white hand
Uaised in compassion or command,
The cruel man disdains to hear,
Her Sword of Justice he may fear."

Dr. Wm. 11. Blackwood, of Philadelphia, in
a paper on the subject of vivisection, says: —

" Vivisection is essentially and unavoidably
cruel in itself. In order to obtain accurate
results the animals must be healthy, strong,
and in full jiossession of their senses and in-
telligence. The administration of anaesthetics
of any nature vitiates the outcome of the ex-
periment in any instance, and destroys its
utility in the majority of cases. To stupefy an
animal partially, to wait until that effect has
passed off, and then to mutilate it, enables the
operator to say that auiusthesia was employed,
an<l this course is pursued largely for the sake
of effect, because medical literature falls fre-

TRANSPORTATION OF CATTLE, SHliEP, ETC.

<|uently into the hands of the laity either in
the shape of original reports or extracts culled
irom tliem, amt republished in magazines or
newspapers. Indeed, vivisectors themselves
abet the distribution of such reading matter, in
order to advertise their profound wisdom as
investigators, and to impress the public with
tlie idea of their importance as teachers ; and
therefore as being, in conaei|uence, more skilful
than the ordinary physicians, of whom the
public know nothing through this method of
advertising.

" Vivisection is useless to mankind. No ani-
mal parallels maa in anatomical structure, in
jthysijlogical action, nor in mode or object in
life. The most rabid experimentalist will not
admit that he has the brain of an ape in his
cranial cavity, the lungs of a dog in his thorax,
or the skin of an ass beneath his clothing. . . .
He argues from false premises, his deductions
are wrong, and their application to the treat-
ment of disease is illogical in conse(|uence. "

Mr. Angell, Preaident of the Massachusetts
Humane Society, in an address at New Orleans,
said: —

"Useless and unrestricted vivisection has
been practised so largely in this country many
years ; one man has taken already the lives of
more than three thousand animals in his use-
less experiments ; these animals are kept in
suffering soin"';imes days, and sometimes weeks.
Dr. Henry J. Bigelow, Harvard University
professor of surgery, told ine some time since
that from all this animal torture and destruc-
tion not one useful fact has thus far to his
knowledge been discovered in America. "

Cattle Cars— Discussion and Conclusion.

The American Humane Association, after
discussing this question in convention, came to
the following conclusions : —

" 1. That stock should be transported by
weight.

" '2, That stock should be t.'^.ken from the cars
once in twenty-four hours and fed, watered
and rested.

"3. That two pairs of bars in tlie ordinary
cattle oars, divi(ling the animals into three
divisions, would be a great improvement over
that now pursued, of having all the animals in
the car crowding against each other.

"4. That dehorning cattle by sawing otf
horns close to the head, for the purpose of pre-
venting cattle from hooking, was a barbarous
cruelty."

Dominion Act against Cruelty.

The Dominion Act against cruelty provides
that —

" Whosoever wantonly, cruelly, or unneces-
sarily beats, ill-treats, abuses, over drives, or
tortures any horse, cow, sheep, or other cattle,
or any poultry, or any dog or domestic animal
or bird, shall, upon being convicted before the
police magistrate, be punished by imprisonment

for a term not exceeding three months, or by a
..wv not exceeding $50, or liy both."

In addition to this clans-, it is gratifying to
know that, at the instance of, and heartily in-
dorsed by, several Humane Societies in Canada,
Mr. Adam Brown, M. P. for Hamilton, Ontario,
has introduced into the Dominion House of
Commons a Bill containing several new provi-
sions. The bill v/as carefully considered in
Committee and reported by it aa follows: — •

" The expression 'animal' shall include any
horse, mare, gelding, bull, ox, cow, heifer,
steer, calf, mule, ass, sheep, lamb, goat, pig,
hog, sow, dog or cat, and every other domestic
animal, fowl or bird, or wild animal, fowl or
bird, tamed or domesticated.

" Everyone who —

"(a) Ill-trkati.vo. — Wantonly, cruelly or
unnecessarily beats, binds, ill-treats, abuses,
overdrives or tortures any cattle, poultry, dog,
domestic animal or bird ; or —

"('i) D.\ M AG K WHILE DiuviNo. — While driv-
ing any cattle or other animal is, by negligence
or ill-usage in the driving thereof, the means
whereby any mischief, damage or injury is done
by any such cattle or other animal; or —

"(c) Baiting. — In any manner encourages,
aids or assists at the fighting or baiting of any
bull, bear, badger, dog, cock or other kind of
animal, whether of domestic or wild nature ;
or —

"(rf) Starving. — Having the charge or cus-
tody of any animal, unnecessarily fails to pro-
vide the same with proper food, drink, shelter
and protection from the weather ; or —

"(e) Abandoning. — Being the owner, driver
or person having the charge or custody of any
animal, wantonly and unnecessarily leaves dis-
abled or abandons siich animal ; or —

"(/) Cruhlly Cahuyino. —Wantonly and
unnecessarily carries, or causes to be carried,
in or upon any vehicle, or otherwise, any ani-
mal in a cruel or inhuman manner; or —

"((/) Targets. — Keeps or uses any live ani-
mal or bird for the purpose of being used as a
target, or to be shot at, either for amusement
or as a test of skill in marksmanship, or for any
like purpose, — or shouts at such animal or bird,
— or is present as a party, umpire or judge at
any such shooting at any animal or bird, — or
keeps, or knowin^,ly rents, any building, shed,
room, yard, tii id or premises, or knowingly
permits the use of any building, shed, room,
yard, field or premises, for the purpose of shoot-
ing at any animal or oird as aforesaid ;

"Penalty. — .Shall, on summary convijtior
before two justices of the peace, be liable to a
penalty not exceeding fifty dollars, or to im-
prisonment for any term not exceeding three
months, with or without hard labor, or to both."

The following are the additional provisions
of the Bill:—

" Any Pek.son may Interfere. — Any person
may interfere to prevent the perpetration of
any act of cruelty done in his presence to any

THE TORONTO HUMANK SOCIETY.

animal, and an^ person who interferes with or
obstructs or resists any person so enj^aged shall,
on summary conviction, be liable to a penalty
not exceeding fifty dollars, or to imprisonment
for any term not exceeding three mouths, with
or without hard labor, or to both.

" Dkstruction of Disabled Animals. — Any
pe'-son may lawfully destroy or cause to be ile-
stroyed any animal found to bo abandoned or
not properly cared for, when, in tlie judgment
of two justices of the peace, called by liim to
view the same, in liis presence, it appears to Ije
injured, disabled or diseased past recovery."

The passage of this Bill will be hailed with
.lincero pleasure by all those in the Dominion
who, like members of our Society, are laboring

for the protection of these dumb creatures.
Tlicy hope also to see the excellent Bill of Mr.
John Leys, M. IM'., Toronto, to which reference
has already been made, pass at tlie next session
of tlie Ontario Legislature. Its provisions " for
the better protection of insectivorous and other
birds, squirrels and toads," are admirable and
most humane. In Part If. of this publication
will be found information as to the "Act for
the Protection and Reformation of Neglected
Children," the draft of whicli was 8ul)niitted to
Hon. Attorney-General Mowat by the Toronto
Humane Societj'. He cordially approved of it
and had it passed into a law iu iits present form.

VI. HUMANE SOCIETIES' DOINGS ELSEWHERE.

New York Humane Society.

The New York Report (the twenty -second) for
1888 gives the following .summary of its work :

"The following tables show, in a condensed
form, what has been done during the past
twenty-two years :

Cases prosecuted in the courts 1.3, 850

Disabled animals temporarily suspended
from work 35, 108

Horses, disabled past recovery, hu-
manely destroyed 24,099

Disable(l horses removed from theStieets

in the Ambulances 4,444

" The aggregate result for the year 1887 is as
follows :

Cases prosecuted in the courts 797

Disabled animals temporarily suspended
from work 3,456

Horses, disableil past recovery, hu-
manely destroyed 2,546

Small animals, disabled past recovery,

humanely destroyed 1,202

Disabled horses removed from the Streets
in the Ambulances 522

Complaints received and investigated.. 3,773

" Five hundred and twenty two sick and dis-
abled animals were removed from the streets to
veterinary hospitals in our ambulances, and the
derrick was called into requisition to rescue
several horses from drowning and excavations
into which they had accidentally fallen. Any
hour of the day or night they are available.

" All vessels carrying cattle and other animals
to foreign countries liave been visited by our
representatives, and the regulations prescribed
by President Bergh several years ago, with re-
gard to space, food, and water, have been
rigidly insisted on.

"DoG-FioiiTS, CocK-FioiiTs, AND Rat-Baits.
— These demoralizing exhibitions have been
almost entirely suppressed in this city. It is
most difficult to discover contemplated contests
between animals, even in this and the more

isolated counties, by reason of the secrecy with
which they are conducted.

" Miscellaneous, and every other detail of
our work not heretofore mentioned, is em-
bodied. Markets, night and day hackstands,
railroad and stage depots, ferries, places of
amusement whore animals are employed, the
liorse-marV»it where worthless horses and mules
are lirov.gh., to be sold, likewise the city ' dog-
pouiK'. ' and 'dog-catchers,' have received
ofiicial attention. All complaints received jier-
taining to the work of animal protection have
been investigated, and when reported 'well-
founded,' prompt ofiicial action has been ren-
dered."

Massachusetts Humane Society.

President Angell, of the Massachusetts So-
ciety for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,
reports legacies from various persons in aid of
the Society's work during the past year.

Three prosecutions had been made for dock-
ing the tails of horses, and in each case a fine
of $50 and costs inflicted on the guilty party.
A painting, ten feet by six, illustrating Long-
fellow's poem, "The Old Horse Ringing the
Bell of Justice" (see page 25), was hung in the
Mechanics' Fair Hall.

The monthly report of complaint shows 193
cases of cruelty dealt witli by Boston agents, 32
animals taken from work, and 66 horses and
otlier animals mercifully killed. In one of the
cases presented, a teamster who twice knocked
down a horse with a heavy cart stake was sen-
tenced to eight months' iinprisonnient. Five
thou.sdiid seven hundred and forty- three branches
of the Society's Band of Mercy have been formed
thus far.

In the Fourteenth Report of the Ohio Hu-
mane Society it is stated that during " the past
year (1886-7) from 12,000 to 15,000 animala

HUMANK SOCIKTIES' DOINGS ELSKWIIKRC.

Long-
King the
in the

hiivo cmnc directly under the euro of the So-
ciety's agents, and a nmuh liirgor nmnbor indi-
rectly. The whole nnnilier of children to which
attenti-.n has been given in the same tin.o is
about l,r)()0.

The "sports" and " roughs," who indulge in
tiu! most cruel pastime of dog fighting ami
chicken-fighting, have been j)ur»ued relentlessly.

The practice of live bird-shooting from traps
has been almost entirely prevented, and is be-
coming unpopular among sportsmen themselves.

A law was j)assed last year for the protection
of our native birds, and its existence has done
• "h to check the barbarous slaughter of our
f o I hered innocents.

NoTK The other latest local reports whieli tne editor

hiw accusa to are (or 18ii0.

The American Parent Society.

In the last Report of the moating of the Gen-
eral Society, or " Amer'::.i,ii Humane Associa-
tion," held at Rochester, October, 1887, the
President states that during the year he had

"Travelled many thousand miles, visiting
ranclies, stock-yards, slaughter liouses, mar-
ket?, and otiier centres of animal industry.
I'lverywhere there is a marked elumge in fuel-
ing and in methods. Nowhere are animals re-
garded as mere chattels, to be treated as the
objects of their owner's mere caprice or impulse.
Everywhere, even in ])laces where we would
hardly look for it, there hovers over the speech-
hiss V)rute the angelic wings of a pervasive pro-
tection. The old question of the apostle, ' Docs
(!od care for the oxen?' has found its answer
in this time and place, where law and public
sentiment anil active supervision have made
cruelty, which was once the commonplace treat-
ment of the animal, a disgrace and a crime."

The President states that the work done by
thirty societies, chiefly in the United States,
during the last year has relieved the misery,
c;ruelty and abuse of a hundred and thirty
thousand (130,000) animals, and a hundred and
ten thousand (110,000) children.

He further states that there are sixty-one
additional societies in the United States and
Canada, from which no reports were received.

"These ninety-one principal Societies," he
iidds, " eai;h with its many branches, have done
iiuich to ameliorate tiie condition of those liclp-
less creatures, who, but for them, would have
liad no friend or deliverer ; and they present a
jiieture both unicjue and beautiful, of the power
of a well-directed philanthropy and a noble
enthusiasm."

The Audubou Society, formed in 188G, the
object of which is the protection of birds, now
numbers fifteen thousand members, drawn from
every State and Territory of the Union, and

from Canada. The Society will assuredly
achieve the ends indicated by its founders in
enlightening the people on the impo.tance of
birds in the general economy of Nature, and in
creating a healthy sentiment condemnatory of
ickless bird slaughttr. — Ohc Dumb Aiiimaln.

Mr. M. V. B. Davis, Secretary of the Pennsyl-
vania .S. P. C. A., writes to the American Mu-
m.ine Society at its Rochester meeting, thus: —

"Less than a quarter of a century ago the
humane organizations of tlie world were fewer
than ten. To-day they number over four hun-
dred, and back of them stvnds ready for battle
for the right a vast army of (lod-serving, higli-
minded men and women. Nothing can, noth
ing shall, impede the pr /gresa of a cause that
is exercising the most favorable influence on
the hu.aan race. 'A feeling of sacrelness for
life is natural to the heart of every human be-
ing, and it only requires cultivxtion to grow
into a strong and endearing sentiment, which
will guide the actions through each stage of
existence.' Humane Societies, in teaching the
lessons of kindness to animals, are forming the
basis for the reception of religious instruction,
and are leading the way to a higher civilization.
Therefore with God on our side we cannot help
but go forward ; and this parent Association
echoes the voice of humanity everywhere, that
from the hearts of the people may come the
strongest sympathy, and from their store may
come the greatest financial help to sustain a
cause of right and justice, and aid in carrying
out a principle which (!od Himself has exem-
plified ii II his relations with us — that those
creatures which are under our dominion, and
by whose labor and sacrifices wo are benefiteil,
have a claim in return upon our kindly interest,
care and protection."

Humane Societies in England.

Mr. E. L. Brown of Chicago, in a recent ad-
dress on this subject, said : —

" We should take pattern from the oldest
Society of this kind in the world. The London
Society, the Royal Society for the Prevention
of Cruelty to Animals, every year devotes a
certain amount of money — I will say, before I
go on, I think our whole work is educational,
and on that line I am r.bout to speak. Educate
the children. The Royal Society in London
devotes a certain sum of money every year to
be given as prizes to those children of the public
schools of Great Britain who shall write the
best essays on kindness to animals, and that
every year those prizes are given, and it is an
occasion to be remembered. I remember well
four years ago when I was in London, I went
on purpose to go there. It was held m St.
James' Hall, one of the largest halls in London,
and it was full two consecutive afternoons with
children— 0,000 children. It was a beautiful
sight to see those prizes given to those children.
There were 800 prizes given to the children,
one of whom was only eight years old. From
eight to fifteen years of age were those who

THK TORONTO HUMANK SOCIl<yrY.

had received prizes. 'I'iicy appointed a com-
inittoo of jiKlfjos of thu rirst geiitiemi'n iviid
ladies of the i^iii;L;di)in, wiioso duty it was to
read the egaays over and award the prizes. It
was u 1/uaiitil'ul si^ht, all those thousanils of
children and seven or ei^ht hundre'l of the first
(gentlemen and ladies in Kngland on the great
jdatforni and tiie stage that run up hciund the
platform; and the prizes wore given t)'*! first day
by the daughter of the Queen, Princess ISea-
trice, and tlie second day by the Baroness Bur-
dett-Coutta.

" Tiiese prizes were lometimes a book, some-
times a picture, but all simple things. 1 pre-
sume none oT them cost over five dollars a piece,
if so much. Ami as the children came up, if it
was a boy, he bowed ; but if it was a girl, she
dropped a courtesy. The prizes for these par-
ticular children were handed to Princess Boa-
trice, and she handed it to the child, and said
' Your Queen gives you this prize,' and that
child will never forget it as long as he or she
lives. It was one of the finest sights I ever
saw. \V hy cannot we do it ? It is very simple.
There are plenty of men who will give money, I
think, for those prizes, and in that way will
educate the children. It is wonderful, as Prof.
tSwinp says, how far a word will go in this line.
The Karl of Shaftesbury told me himself that
the tutor of one of the largest schools in Eng-
land wrote to him aiiout his pupils that they
were getting to be extremely cruel to animals
and birds and to each other, and he wrote to
the Earl of Shaftesbury, knowing that he took
interest in these things, asking his advice. He
wrote him that 1 2 hud put in a certain bank a
certain amount of money to remain there in
perpetuity, the interest of which should go to
give prizes to the children of that school — the
boys of tiiat school— for it was a boys' school,
who shoi M write the best essay on the subject
of kindness to animals, and should practice
what they preached. The effect was marvel-
lous. Within two years that school, from being
one of the worst schools in the kingdom, was
the best. Why cannot we reach the children ?
If we do that, we will have no difficulty in
reaching the adults.

The Humane Cause in England and France.

The Massachusetts Humane Society states
that—

" The Ladies' Humane Education Committee
of the Royal Society of England, has sent at
onetime a humane publication to about twenty-
five thousand schoolmasters in Great Britain,
with an address asking their aid in the schools.

" The Royal Societv of England, and several
Societies in the United States, have given prizes
to pupils in the schools who write the best com-
positions on the subject. "

Another authority states that probably the
largest society of boys and girls in the world
is one in England, called "The Dicky Bird So-
ciety." It was started to protect the birds
and their nests, but now includes other crea-
tures. Over thirty-seven thousand boys and

girls now belong to this society, and they all
promlno to be kind to all harmless creatures,
and to protect them to the utmost of their
power, to feed the birds in winter, and to never
take or destroy a nest; and tint they will all
try to got as many boys and girls as possible to
join "The Dicky Bird Society."

Mr. Aiigcll, in an address at New Orleans,
thus referred to the Humane Societies in other
parts of the world : —

" The wonderful growth of societies for the
prevention of cruelty to animals is a subject
with which some of you arc familiar; how they
have stretched out their protecting arms, not
only in this country, but in Europe, Asia,
Africa, and niiiny islands of various oceans,
numbering among their members many of the
noblest, and bdst, and most illustrious of the
world's citizens. In luigland the Royal Society
is under the patronage of the Queen, and its
President, a member of the (Queen's Privy
Council.

" The first audience I had the pleasure of ad-
dressing there some years ago was presided
over by one of the most learned men in Eng-
land, the Lord Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol,
and the gentleman who moved the vote of
thanks was Field- Marshal Sir John Burgoyne,
very near the head of the British army : the
second was at the house of the Baroness Burdett-
Coutta, probably next to the Queen the most
highly respected woman in England.

"In France, Germany, and elsewhere, wher-
ever I have travelled in Europe, I have found
the same. One (ierman society numbers among
its members twenty-three generals and over
two hundred officers of the German army."

Tho Massachusetts Society also states that—

" The French Minister of Public Instruction
has ordered the publications of the French
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani-
mals to be circulated in French schools, and
called the attention of the teachers of France
to the importance of educating children hu-
manely.

"The French Society gives medals of gold,
silver aiid bronze to those who have shown the
greatesu kindness to animals. The Archbishop
of liordeaux, Mons. Dounot, in a recent ad-
dress, states that in a number of the dioceses of
France, it is the custom of the pastors of the
churches, when preparing children for their
first communion, to require from them a pro-
mise never to ill-treat any dumb creature."

A celebrated French teacher (M. DeSailly)
has been teaching the children in his school,
ever since 1851, kindness to animals. He says
it has had the best influence on their lives and
characters. He has found them " not only
more kind to animals, but more gentle and
affectionate toward each other," and he hopes
that principles of kindness to animals will soon
be taught in every school.

HUMANE SOCIETIES' DOINGS ELSEWIIKRF:.

DeSailly)
his school,

He says
r lives and

not only
gentle and

he hopes
B will soon

Mr. Angell adds : —

" In more than five thousand French schools
re){ular lessons are now given the cMldreii on
this subject, and as 1 have before siiid, in these
papers, hundreds, purhaps thousands, of so-
cieties of uliildieii hive been formed in the
bchools of I'iiii^hinil, France and other countries,
to protect aniinals from cruelty. Out of about
two thousand criminals in American prisons,
inquired of on tlie subject, it was found that
only twelve had any pet animal during theic
childhood."

Other Humane Societies.

The annual report of the Calcutta S. P. C. A.
for 1886 shows for the year 7,l'2(i prosecutions
and 7,042 convic'-'^ns, by far the largest num-
ber obtained by any society in the world.

Princess Eugenie, of Sweden, who takes a
great interest in the Society for the Prevention
of Cruelty to Animals, the other day invited
the cab-drivers of Stockholm to "afternoon
coffee " in the large liall of the Exchange, where
a lecture about the horse and its proper treat-
ment was afterwards delivered. One of the
Princess' ladies-in-waiting ofii^iated as hostess.
— The Pre»».

Mr. Angell mentions in Our Dumb Animals
for May, 1S88, that:

"In the winter of 188-1-5 buildings and an
amphitheatre were erected on grounds adjoin-
ing the International Exposition at New Or
leans, and bulls and bull-fighters brought from
Mexico, and a series of brutal exhibitions was
about to begin, when we appealed through the
New Orleans papers to the authorities and all
good citizens to stop them. The Governor of
Louisiana ordered that they should not be per-
mitted. The bulls and fighters were sent back
to Mexico, and the buildings and grounds stood
vacant."

The Boston Herald publishes the following
letter, dated Mexico, via Galveston, Tex., April
18, 1888:—

"Gen. Gonzalez, formerly President of the
Republic, and now Governor of the State of
Guanaxuato, has taken a bold and decisive step
in decreeing *' t suppression of bull-lighting in
that State. ±ie declares that the sport is de-
moralizing and leading the people into habits
of wastefulness and disorder, and that the em-
ployment of large sums for constructing bull
rings and maintaining them is entirely improper
in the present state of civilization He de-
c'lres that educational interests and manufac-
turing enterprises suiTer from the use of so
much money in this barbaric sport, and that
habits of public order and economy are de-
stroyed by it. Accordingly he orders tlie sum-
mary prohibition of bull-fighting in his State."

"There lives and works
A soul in all things, and that soul is (iod !

Nut a flower
Hut shows some toucli, in freckle, streak or

stain.
Of His unrivalled pencil.
And ere one (lowering season fades and dies
Designs the blooming wonders of the next.
Nature is but a name for an effect
Whose cause is God." — Cowper.

How often do persons say that they like
animals "in tlicir place," which generally
means that they do not like th'-ni at all. The
most original application of these words was
made by the Empress of Hra/.il, who declared
she liked feathers and wings best in their place
— on the birds' bodies ! — Selected.

Paley on the Happy World of Nature.

"It is a happy world," says Archdeacon
Paley. "The air, the earth, the water teem
with delighted existence. In a spring noon
or summer evening, on whichever side I turn
my eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon
my view. The insect youth are on the wing.
Swarms of new-born Hies are trying their young
pinions in the air. Their sportive motions,
their dancing mazes, their gratuitous activity,
their continual change of place, without ap-
parent use or purpose, testify their joy and the
exultation which they feel in their lately dis-
covered faculties.

"Among the noblest in the land.

Though he may count himself the least,
That man I honor and revere.
Who, without favor, without fear,
In the great city dares to stand

The friend of every friendless beast."

— Longfellow.

As we advance in this humane work towards
animals, their world grows under our study,
and the horse, the ox, the dog, seem to come
nearer to man, and not to be tlie low brutes
they once were. The pet dog of one of the
New England poets understands many words,
but is simply unable to speak them. We, who
are a little better in language and power than
the dumb animals, must come between them and
all needless pain. — Prof. Swing.

" Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,
Our hea; ts, in glad surprise,
To higher levels rise." — Ano'i.

The Toronto Humane Society is anxious to enlist the hearty co-operation of the citizens In Its
operations, so that it, too, with their aid, will have a good record of work done.

TFIF TORONTO HUMANE SOCIRTY.

il, ' :^

'many hands" (oU KVKN IIII.LS) "MAKE I,IOHT WORK.

VII. INTERESTING NATURAL HISTORY FACTS.

As more fully cx|)'.aine(l in another part of
tliis publication — where the ohjeot may be more
clearly seen — it was thoui,'ht desirable to de-
vote some portion of the work to the character-
istics and habits of animals. A perusal of the
following e.x tracts, taken from various sources,
cannot fail to excite a deeper interest in the
aiiimals themselves, as well as a more wide-
spread feeling of generous and liuiiiane sympa-
thy in their condition and well-being. That
their natural instincts rise almost to the level
of dumb and silent reason, few, who have given
any attention to the habits and ways of animals,
can doubt. Those who will read the extracts
in this publication, touching upon these sub-
jects, will bo particularly struck with the many
interesting facts bearing on the point which is
sought to be emphasized and illustrated by
the MTiters.

Natural Characteristics of Animals.

The greyhound runs by eyesight only, and
this we observe as a far' The carrier-pigeon
flies his two hundred miles homeward by eye-
sight, viz., from point to point of objests which
he lias marked ; but this is only conjecture.
The fierce dragon-dy, with twelve thousand
lenses in its eye, darts from angle to angle with
the rapidity of a flashing sword, and as rapidly
darts back, not turning in the air, but, with a
dash, reversing the action of his four wings,
and instantaneously calculating distance of the
objects, «r he would dash himself to pieces.
But in what conformation of his does this con-
sist ? No one can answer.

A cloud of ten thousand gnats dance up and

down in the sun— the minutest interval between
them — yet no one knocks another headlong
upon the grass, or breaks a leg or a wing, long
and delicate as they are.

A four-horse coach comes suddenly upon a
flock of geese on a narrow road, and drives
straight through the middle of them. A goose
was never yet fairly run over, nor a duck. They
are under the very wheels and hoofs, and yet,
somehow, they contrive to flap and waddle off.
Habitually stupid, heavy, and indolent, they
are, nevertheless, equal to the emergency.

Why does the lonely woodpecker, when he
descends his tree and goes to drink, stop several
times on his way — listen and look around be
fore ho takes his draught ? No one knows.

A young student of Natural History conveys
to the N. If. Farmer some of his observations
in the stock-yard. He noticed that a horse in
rising from a recumbent position, emploj-ed his
fore legs as a fulcrum to raise his body, but
that with the bovine tribe the system is re-
versed. It was noticed, too, that fowls, in fly-
ing from one place to another, unless frightened
or hardly pressed, light upon the top of the
fence or wall and take a brief survey of the new
field before dropping into it. There is another
characteristic of the hen family not readily ex-
plained, and that is a propensity to .steal away
to some blind place where an egg is to be de-
posited, but making a terrible cackling when
leaving, thus betraying what she seemed so
anxious to conceal. A dog, in seeking a place
of repose, is very apt to circle around two or
three times before dropping down, even though
no bedding is there requiring this preparation.

INTERESTING NATURAL HISTORY TACTS.

A bird, in Hucking rest upon the liinb of a true,
aliiioat invuriubly tlropti bcluw tiiu point Reluct-
od, and riaea to it by u gutitlo upward curve.

Sevx'ral obatTvers have stated tliat inonkoys
curtuinly dialiku being laughed at, and tliey
HonietiniuB invent imaginary ofl'cncea. In tliu
Zoological Uardeni) I aaw a baboon that always
^'ot into a furious rage wlien its keeper took out
a letter or book and read it aloud to him, and
IiIh rage was ao violent that, as I witnessed on
one occaaion, he
liit his own legs un-
til the blood tlow-
('<'. out. All ani-
mals feel wonder,
and many exhibit
curiosity, the lat-
ter quality afford-
ing opportunity
for the hunters, in
many parta ot the
world, to decoy
their game into
their power. The
faculty of imita-
tion, 80 strongly
developed in man,
especially in a bar-
tiaroua state, is a
pcculiarityof mon-
keys. A certain
bull-terrier of our
acquai n tance,
when he wishes to
go out of the room,
jumps at the han-
illeof the door and
grasps it with his
paws, although he
;;annot himself
turn the handle.
I'arrots also repro-
.luce with wonder-
ful fidelity the
tones of voice of
ditferent speakers,
and puppies rear-
ed by cats have
been known to lick

their feet and wash their faces after the manner
of their foster-mothers. Attention and memory
are also present in the lower animals, and it is
impossible to deny that the dreams of dogs and
horses show the presence of imagination, or
that a certain sort of reason is also present.
Animals also profit by experience, as any man
realizes who has closely observed their ac lions.

' Wild ileer, in the forest (.'liide,
Raise thy timid, K>''>i'eful head ;
In thy dark and histrous eyei
Lo, what stirrinsj beauty lies 1
Live the lite awarded Ihec,
Under the wiWforest tree ;
Hand of mine shall not destroy
Life s I full of harmless joy "

Effect of Music on Animals.

Almost everyone is familiar with instunccBof
the power of music over the lower animals.

Deer are delighted with the Bound of music.
I'layford, in hia "Introduction to Mu8ic,"aay8;
-"Myself, aa 1 travelled some yeara ainie,
insxr Uoyatou, met a herd of stags, about
twenty, upon the road, following a bag-pipe
and violin. When the music played they went

forward, when it
ccaacd they all
Htood still; and in
tills manner they
were brought up
out of Yorkshire to
ilani|)ton Court."
Kven liona and
bears come under
the charm. .Sir
•lohn Hawking, in
Ids "History of
Music," iiuotes an
author who speaks
of a lion he had
^cen in London,
who would forsake
his fo(Ml to listen
to a tunc. ISears,
too, have, from
the earliest times,
been taught to
dance to the sound
of nnisic.

Elephants have
good ears, and may
be trained as mus-
ical performers.
An experimental
concert was given
to Hans and .Mar-
garet, a pair of ele-
lihants in tlie Jar-
din des I'lantes, at
I'aris. The per-
formers were all
distinguished art-
ists. The effect
was unmistakable.
.Melodies in a minor key especially touched
their elephantine hearts. "Caira" fired them
with transport ; "Charmante ( Sabrielle " steeped
them in languor. The spell, nevertheless, did
not act alike on both. Margaret became pas-
sionatel}' alfectionat Hans maintained his
usual sobriety of depoi iment.
The cheering influence of music is seen in the

THE TORONTO HUMAN K SOCIKTV.

oue of uameU. DiiriiiK the long and painful
niurcliCH thu uoniluctora uf a uuravan uftuu com-
fort their cainulH l>y playing on inatiuiuunti.
Tiie numiu haH suuh an etruct that, liowuvcr
fati>{Ubil tlioy may bu by their li< iivy loaila, th«
aniniuiii Htop out with runewctl vigor,

Monkvyg liavu a Ituunuar for rliy thm, anil have
l)een taught to danco to niusio un tlie tight-
rope.

Do^s often aot up a whino or a howl wlion
they liear music.

Una liorsu the writer once poBcvHaed would
atop in tho act of eating his corn and listen at-
tentively, with pricked and moving ears and
Hteady eyes, the instant h<^ heard the low ( i
sounded, and would continue to listen as long
UH it was sustained ; while another horse hi'
knew was similarly affected ))y a particularly
iiigh note. Tile recognition of the sound of the
l)uglo l)y a trooper, and the excitement occa-
sioned in the hunter v.hen the pack givcH
tongue, are familiar instances of the power of
horses to discriminate between dilfcrent sounils.
They never mistake one call for aruther. Tlic
oducated horso of the circus owes a great deiil
to the influ'^nce of music; he marches, trots,
gallops, advances, retires, and oven dances to
the lively strains of the orchestra.

On sheep and cattle, music, both vocal and
instrumental, has a highly beneficial efleut.
There is a poetic saying among the Arabs, that
the song of the shepherd fattens the sheep moi e
than the richest pasture of the plains ; and tlie
saying rests, no doubt, on a foundation of fact.
Kostcrn shepherds are in 'he habit of singing
and piping to quicken the action of tho flocks
under their charge.

When cows are sulky, milkmaids in the
Highlands of Scotland often sing to them to
restore tlmm to good humor.

In S'.vitzorland a milkmaid or man gets better
wages if gifted with a good voice, because it is
found that a cow will yield one-fifth more milk
if soothed during the milking by a pleasing
iiielody.

In France the oxen that work in the fields
are regularly sung to as an encouragement to
exertion, and no peasant has the slightest doubt
that the animals listen to him with pleasure.

The Trades of Animals.

The following observations, which we copy
verbatim from an "Old Curiosity Shop," have
reference to animals, and exhibit their least
apparent knowledge of the sciences ; also their
professions, occupations and enjoyments: —

The marmot is a civil engineer ; he not only

builda houses, but oonatructa aqueducts and
drains to keep them dry. The white ants
maintain a regular army of soldiers. The KiiNt
India ants are horticulturists ; they make
inuahrooniH, upon which they food their young.
Wasps are piper inaiuifacturers. Caterpillars
are silk-spinners. Thu bird plocous toxtor is a
weaver ; he weaves a web to make his nest.
The primia ia a tailor ; he aewa the leaves to-

gether to make his nest. The squirrel is a
ferryman ; with a ohip or a piece of bark for a
boat, and his tail for a sail, ho crosses a stream.
Dogs, wolves, jackals, and many others, are
hunters. The black bear and heron are fisher-
men. The unts are regular day laborers. The
monkey is a rope-dancer. The a.ssociation of
))eavers presents us with a model of republican-
ism. The bees live under a monarchy. The
Indian antelopes furnish an example of patri-
archal government. Elephants exhibit an
aristocracy of elders. Wild horses are said to
select their leader. Sheep, in a wild state, are
under the control of a military chief ram.

Beo are geometricians ; their cells arc so
constructed as, with least quantity of material,
to have the largest sized spaces and the least
possil>le loss of interstice. So also is the ant-
lion ; his funnel-shaped trap is exactly correct
in its conformation as if it had been made by
the skilful artist of our species, with the aid of
the best instruments. The mole is a meteoro-
logist. The bird called tho line-killer is an
arithmetician ; so, also, is the crow, the wild-
turkey, and some other birds. The torpedo,
the ray, and the electric eel, are electricians.

INTKRKrtTINO NATURAL HISTORY FACTS.

1'he nautilui is a navigator ; liu raUoi ami
l( wiirH his Miiila, casts uiul wuii^lis his aiu'lior,
and porfuniis utliur iiuuticul uvolutiuiis. Wliulu

tril)es of birds are musicians. 'I'lic l>oaver is
an arcliitect, Imilder and wood-cutter ; he cuts
down trees and erects liouses and dams.

How appropriate, in this connection, u-re the
following lines by I'ope: —
"(lo; frojn the creatures thy instruction talic ■
Learn from tlie birds what food the thicket

yieW;
Learn from the beasts the physic of the field ;
Tiiy arts of building from the bee receive;
Learn of tlie mole to plough, the worn, to weave ;
LiMvrn of the little Nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale. "

Whittier, drawing his knowledge and inspira-
tion from the old New England farm, thus versi-
ties certain of the characteristics of animals,
etc.: —

" Knowledge never learned at schools
Of the wild bee's morning chase.
Of the wild flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl, and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood ;
How the tortoise bears his shell ;
How the woodchuck digs his cell
And the ground-mole makes his well;
How the robin feeds her young ;
How the oriole's nest is hung ;
Where the whitest lilies blow ;
Where the freshest berries grow ;
Where the wood-nut trails its vine;
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine ;
Of the black wasp's cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay;
And the architectural plana
Of grey hornet artisans ! "

Longevity of Animals.
The average of cats is 15 years ; a squirrel
and hare, 7 or 8 years ; rabbits, 7 ; a bear rarely

exceeds '20 years ; a dog lives 120 yearn ; a wolf,
'20; a fox, 14 to III; lions are long lived — the
<m» known by the .'iivnii! of I'ompcy lived to the
ago of 70 ; el<'|)li,'iiiti< have been known to
live, it is asserted, to thi! great age of -100
yaari. When Alexander the (ireat had con-
(juered I'orpus, King of Inilia, he took a great
elephant which had fought very valiantly for
tile king, and named him Ajax, dedicated him
to the sun, and let him go witli this inscription :
" Alexander, the son of .lupiter, liath dedicated
.vjax to the sun." The elephant was found
with this inscription three hundred and tifty
years after, i'igs have been known to live to
the ago of 30 ; the rhinoceros to 20 ; a horse
has been known ':o live to the age of ti'J, but
average '25 to 30 ; camels sometimes live to the
age of 100 ; stags are very long-lived ; sheep
seldom exceed the age of 10 ; cows live about
15 years, Ciivicr considers it probable that
whales sometimes live 100 years ; the dolphin
and porpoise attain the age of 30 ; an eagle
died at Vienna at the age of 104 years ; ravens
frequently reach the age of 100 ; swans have
been known to live '200 years. Mr. Mallerton
has the skeleton of a swan that lived to that
age. Pelicans are long-lived; a tortoise l-.as
been known to live to 107.

Animal Telegraphy to One Another.

There are other and older telegraphs the :
those that are formed by electric wires. Even
the lower animals -those that are social and
gregarious — have carried the art of telegraphy
to wondrous perfection aj^iesago; and one has
only to watch them attentively to be amazed at
their telegraphic <loing8. Watch the crows . . .
the sparrows . . . and the doves, though they
look so innocent, do not spend all their time in
cooing love-songs or in pruning their rainbow
feathers; they have a Murk Lane Ex/jrexn of
their own, and by a peck or a ruffle of their
feathers can direct to where [they can feast in
plenty]. Mark, too, the swallows ... I have
seen some of them perched in long rows on the
telegraph wires, and have fancied them saying,
as they swayed their graceful bodies up and
down and wagged their pretty heads, " These
foolish men, with their nonsensical wires, a
clumsy imitation of the spider's web — what
would they not give to know our telegraphic
system ! "

But this wondrous telegraphy is not confined
to the feathered tribes . . . The deer-stalker,
the elephant-hunter, the chamois-sliooter, the
lion-slayer, have all a tale to tsU of their might-

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIliTY.

ier prey. There is not a single tribe of gre-
garious animals, great or small, which has not
some swift, 8ul)tilc, perfect system of signals
by which the wants of the community ia ex-
pressed and its woes cured. And even among
Solitary creatures, who tliat has seen the geo-
metric spider sitting at ills central bureau, and
receiving signal after signal along his spoke-
likc-tines, has not tliought liini reading off tiie
symools, "Fly market tight," "Blue-bottles
looking up," " Midges easy," "Thunder in the
air"? — The late Dr. Geo. Wilnon, of Edinlmvijh.

The Alarm Bird.

Near the Coppermine Kiver, which falls into
the Hudson Kiver, there is a tribe of In lians
who derive their sole subjistence from game.
Tlie animals, taught by experience, sliun the
haunts of men, and conceal themselves in the
n^.ost secjuestered spots, and would with diiK-
culty be discovered were it not for one of tlie
owl genu" called tha alarm bii d.

No sooner does tliis bird descry man or boast
than it directs its llight towards them, and,
hovering over them, forms gyrations round
tlieir head. Should two objects at once arrest
its attention, it flies from one to the other alter-
nately with a loud, acreaning noise, resembling
tlie crying of a child. In this manner it will
follow tri'.vellera and attend a herd of deer for
the space of a day.

By means of this guide the Copper Indians
are apprized of the approach of strangers, or
directed to the herds of deer and musk oxen,
which otherwise they would fre(juently miss.
Is it to be wondsred at, then, tliat they hold
t.he alarm bird in the highest esteem ? — Brilith
A merican Header.

Insect Food of Canadian Birds.

Nearly all the birds that frecjuent our or-
chards and nurseries are insectivorous, and well
deserve the kind protection of the farmer and
gardener. The services of our pretty and fami-
liar friend the robin are invaluable, and the
ill-feeling manifested towards this bird is quite
unaccountable. The food of the robin consists
almost exclusively of grubs, earthworms and
those subterraneous caterpillars or cut-worms
tl'.At come out of the eartli to take their food ;
all tiiese and many others are devoured by the
robin, and if he should occasionally taste a
cherry or a plum, purely the general inteveats
of agriculture are of more importance than a
few cherries. iJuring the breeding season a
pair of robins will destroy myriads of noxious

insects ; and as the robin raises two and some-
times thre-j broods in a season, the service he
renders the agriculturist in ridding the soil
of grubs and worms that would destroy his
crops, certainly entitles this bird to more merci-
ful treatment than it usually receive ..

The elegant cedar bird is also another inno-
cent victim of unfounded prejudice. This bird
rarely touches fruit of any kind, unless it con-
tains a worm or the iarviu of some noxious insect.
Its food consists principally of caterpillars,
beetles, and the canker worms that infest the
fruit trees.

The brilliant oriole or golden robin, the
gaudy scarlet tanager or red bird, love to
build their nests and raise their young in the
trees of the orchard, because there they find
tlieir food, which consists almost exclusivelj
of caterpillars and the larv;e of insects. Our
beautiful singers, the thrushes, destroy nearly
all kinds of grubs, eater-pillars, and worms that
live iiiton the greensward or cultivated soil
The cat biid, that charms the ear witli its rich
and varied notes, seldom ever tastes fruit, but
feeds upon insects of vai'ious kinds. The
beautiful warblers pursue their insect destroy-
ing labors from early morn till night; tiie active
ilycitchers capture the winged insects ; the
blue bird, that loves to dwell near the haunts
of man, feeds upon spiders and caterpillars ;
the woodpeckers, nuthatches, titmice, wrens
and creepers, feed upon the larva: of insects
deposited in the bark of trees; the swallows and
martins fee<l entirely upon winged insects ; the
yelluw bir ' antl the sparrows feed upon small
insects and the seeds of grass and various
weeds ; the food of the meadow lark and the
cheerful Loijolink consists of the larvte of vari-
ous insects, as well as beetles, grasshoppers,
cutworms, and crickets, of which they destroy
immense numbers. — Canadian Oniilholoijist.

"On Thee e.ich living soul awaits,

From Thee, O Lord, all seek their food,
Thou opcnest Thy hand
And fillest all with good."

— Ilaydii'H Creation.

Great naturalists, who have studied into the
habits of animals, birds and insects, have dis-
covered that there is a place in the world of
Nature for each and every one, and that each
one fills its place beautifully and pei'fectly in
its own sphere. We must admit, however, that
noxious insects and dangerous animals some-
times get out of their " sphere," and then there
is no iloubt we may destroy them and do no
wrong. —Mrs. G. M. Fairchild.

INTERK.STING NATURAL HISTORY FACTS.

The Snow Birds and Birds in the Snow.

W'liere ilo the snow birds come from and
where do they go ? That is a (luestion put by
a friend who has been observing the movements
of these little winter wanderers of the feathered
tribe. He says a dozen or so of greyish white,
brown, dear little beauties will come tittering
and chirping for a few munients about the yard
o) jear the door of a frie.ully kitchen, and then
away they go. 1'he sky— before cloudless —
darkens, and soon the Hakes fall thick and fast.
Search for them, the yarJs — the woods — the
swamps, but you fail to discover one of the
little prophets. The falling me»cury in ';he

Alas! how often fruitless is their search ! And
au for water, all is frozen ; and then there are
no fountains for them, or for dogs or horses !

The Bird and the Quadruped.
With wlnt a glance of scorn may the weakest
bird regard Mie strongest, the swiftest of quad
rupcds — a tiger, d li(>n. The bird needs not to
seek the air that he may be rcinvigoratcd by
touching it. The air seeks and flows into him;
it incessantly kindles withiu him the burning
fires of life. It is this, and not the wing,
which is so marvellous. Take the pinions of
the condor, and follow its track, when from the

BIRDS IN THE SNOW — " OCT IN THE COLD."

barometer indicates that a stor-n of son.e khid
is near, but the presence of snow biras pres-
ages a snow storm always. Each winter the
snow birds are particularly zealous i.i giving
their timely warning of the snow storms which
often follow one another so rapidly, and have
thus kept the highways so nicely covered for
the convenience and pleasure of man.

Who has not often in winter no;;iced the poor
little l)irds just after a snow f,torm vainly en-
deavoring to look for food ? How forlorn they
look, as one in this picture does I And how
o!ie longs to give them u, few crumbs ! They,
too, on their part, eagerly dart about, seeking
l<'r the least sign of anything that looks like
food on the roail, or in the yard or stable.

summit of the Andes and the Siberian glaciers,
:'., swoops down upon the glowing shore of I'oru ;
traversing in a moment all the temperatures of
the gkbe, breathing at one breath the frightful
ir.ass of air —scorching, frozen, it matters not.
You would reach the earth, stricken as by
thunder. Strength makes joy. The happiest
of beings is the bird, because it feels itself
strong beyond the limits of its action ; because,
cradled, sustained by the breath, it floats, it
rises without effort, like a dream. The bound-
less strength, the e.xalted faculty, obscure
among inferior beings, in the bird is clear and
vital, of deriving at will its vigor from the
material source, of drinking in life ut full flood
is a divine intoxication — Jules Michelet,

^mmmm

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

"Behold the fowls of the air: for they aow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet vour heavenly
Father feedeth them."— St. Matt. vi. 26.

"Consider the rcvens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn ; and God feedeth
them."— Se. Luke xii. 24.

"And He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age ! "

—As You Like It, II. 3.

VIII. THE WANTON DESTRUCTION OF BIRDS.

GENERAL NOTE OF EXPLANATION
BY THE EDITOR.

It will be noted that in this publication the
Editor has varied the character of the articles
in it, although in each case they are made >io
bear on the subject of the chapter itself.

The Editor has done so advisedly. The pain-
ful nature of some of the articles might, he
judged, impose too severe a strain on the feel-
ings and sensibilities of the reader. He has,
therefore, intermingled with the speciiio arti-
cles, which form the subject-matter of the par-
ticular chapter in hand, others, both in prose and
poetry, of a more pleasant, or even pathetic,
character, which might have been more appro-
priately inserted in Part III.

The Editor's object was thus to relieve any
painful strain on the feelings of the reader,
which the facts or details given might cause.
He also desired to awaken a deeper personal
interest in the horse, or dog, or bird, whose

treatment was the subject of a chapter. There
is no doubt but that by the reading of these in-
termediate articles, or extracts, a fuller insight
into the kindly nature or lovable characteristics
and fidelity of horse, or dog, etc., as the case
might be, would be the result.

This twofold object will bo the more fully
apparent by referring to the preceding chapter,
in which will be found a series of interesting
extracts on natural history.

Her Majesty the Queen, in her adilress in
July, 1887, on the anniversary of the Royal
Humane Society, of which she has been not
only patron, but a generous ond interesteil
member for over fifty year?, uttered these
memorable words: "No civilization is com-
plete which does not iuclude the dumb and de-
fenceless of God's creatures within the sphere
of charity and mercy."

To promote, among other objects, this noble
sentiment of our gracious Queen is the main
purpose of this publication.

~1"

WANTON DESTRUCTION OF BIRDS.

Promiscuous Shootings of Birds.

The destruction of birds takes various forms.
Boys with catapults, and even men with guns,
or other means of destruction, go out early in
the spring — just when the birds are migrating
l)aok to us, to gladden us with their music and
song — and, for "sport," shoot and destroy all
that they can get near enough to aim at.

"Are you not aware," said Rev. Dr. Wild,
of Toronto, in his sermtn in January, 1888,
"that poople go forth with a gun, and pi-omis-

sonie means.' It makes me feci like being a
tyrai. and saying to the Toronto and Hamil-
ton dudes that come there, ' Stay at home and
shoot in your own back yard at a miniature
duck or hen, and see how you can aim at it.'
Some will kill for mere sport, and leave the
poor bird struggling on the ground. There is
no sense in such things.''

Boys with Catapults.
Boys have many ways of gratifying their cruel
propeusity. Amongst others, a little instrument

Ai" <■ — -*

t'.i^~, if : .:-- — ,'. '-- ^ -S- ■ .

euously shoot our songsters and anytliing that
almost comes in their way, when they caanot
make use of the feather or the flesh or the
claws? They shoot them just out of sheer pas-
sion, I have seen tliem come on my farm, and
when they could not see a bird, they would
slioot a goose, a duck, or a hen, and the fore-
man would come round to me perhaps the next
day, and say, 'I found this or that dead V)y

OF SHOOTING SONG BIRDS !

which they make with a small forked stick,
a bit of string and a strip of rubVier, called
by various names, sucli as "catapult,"
" rubber gun," "bean slinoter,"etc. "Many
boys become quite expert in using them,
tlnd, by loading tliem with carefully selected
pebbles, or l)uck-8hot, they are r.'./le to do no
little damage among the pigeons, sparrows,
and other such birds ; and occasionally dogs,
cats, and other larger aninuils. The num-
ber of birds kilted or injured by tliese lu-
st- fs is quite large; and for all the little
b . our country, or for any large propor-
tion of them, to j^i up with this idea of in-
<lisoriminate killing aii<l slaughtering of inno-
cent animals, solely for tlieii amusement, is
a very serious matter. Of course, thej often
begin it thoughtlessly, but are natu-allj' ambi-
tious to become good marksmen wi h their new
plaything. After a while the catapidt does not

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

satisfy them, and they nui8t have somethingmore
deadly with which to continue tlieir destructive
war upon the innocent birds. In Toronto there
is a by-hiw against the use of tliese catapults;
but it is evaded, and the destruction goes on un-
checked. Toy pistols are must dangerous and
foolish playthings, and should be prohibited.
The character of a cliild's playthings have much
to do with the forming of the cliild's character."

The Tournament— or Killing Doves.

(See illuslrution on jimje Oi.)

There was loading of guns for a " tournament "

.•\s forth the knights to the combat went,

With the "stern joy " we're told tliey feel

In foeman worthy of their steel.

See how they stand in martial pride,

With " the enemy " ranged on the other aide !

But hold ; Are they shooting prisoners there ?

No ! for the prisoners rise in air.

Only to meet, as they soar away.

The cruel shot on its whizzing way ;

The shot that mangles and tears and dooms

The gentle bird with the soft, white plumes —

1'he emblem of purity from all time,

In sacred page and in poet's rhyme.

Such is the quarry our modern knight

Seeks, when he goes, in his manhood's might,

To show the cunning of his right hand !

" IJut hold ! " they say ; " don't you understand

Tliat we show — since man was made to kill —

Hereby our clemency, pluck and skill.

Our pluck, since we meet, with unflinching eye.

The gaze of our innocent enemy.

We are marksmen sure, since we can slay

A bird, when 'tis not too far away.

And our clemency no one can deny —

Some are l)ut wounded, and some let fly;

And if four of its kin are left alive,

What right to complain has the one in live?"

Oh, fire away; 'tis a noble deed !
Hut, methinks, in the hour of our greatest need
We shall look for nobler knights than they
Who win their spurs by the doves they slay !

In the good old times, when the ancient knight
Went forth to prove his good sword's might,
'Twas against some monster of frightful mien.
Or a knight all cased in glittering sheen ;
Or to shelter the weak and oppressed from

wrong ;
Nat SJtcA are the knights of this modern song.
— AyiieH Manle Machar.

KINO8TON, ONT., May, 1863.

Destruction of Birds Forbidden in Germany.

The destruction of all birds, except game to
eat, has been prohibited in many of the Ger-
man states, on the Ilhinc, and in other parts
of Germany. The motives urged are these-;-
wherever the farmers have killed the rooks,
jays, and even sparrows, the crops have been
less than where they had been unmolested.
Very able naturalists have examined this, and
have reported that the vast (juantity of noxious
vermin which the birds destroy, greatly exceeds
the small quantity of grain they destroy in
searching for the insects on which they feed.
Investigation in this country has developed the
same fact. The destruction of the birds gives
hosts of insect tribes a cliaiice for life, and
those feed upon the crops and cause a far m e
general destruction of fruits, vegetables ^lud
cereals than is occasioned by the birds them-
selves. As spring approaches, and with it ihe
time of the singing of birds, measures should
be tak"ii to protect tlicso warblers from mur-
derous attacks of boys.

The late Rev. Professor Hincks, of Univer-
sity College, Toronto, in a lecture at Barrie,
Ontario, said : —

'"J'lie wanton destruction of birds which de-
vote their lives to our ii.'^'^ rests, such as
swallows and others, which only tlireaten us
with injury for short periods, and by taking
advantage of their natural timidity may be
kept from doing us much damage ; the best of
their time is employed in destroying the
farmer's worst enemies."

Who Killed Cock-Sparrow?

Punch has the following, for the benefit of
those "sportsmen" who scour the woods as
soon as the snow has gone, and shoot at every-
thing they can come within reach of : —

Who killed Cock-Sparrow ?

"I," said those men of Crawley,
" With my club and my mawley.

I killed Cock-Sparrow !"

Who saw him die?
" I," said Caterpillar,
"And I blessed Sparrow-killer,

As I saw him die."

Who'll dance on his grave?

"I,"8ai.l Mr. Slug,

" Witli Green-fly and Red-bug,
We'll dance on his grave."

Who'll weep for his loss ?

"I," said young Wheat-shoot,
Fruit and flower — bud and root,

" We'll weep for his loss."

WANTON DESTRUCTION OF BIRDS.

Don't Let Your Cat Kill the Birds.

Destruotive of birds in springtime as l)oys
are, the cat is almost as much so at all times.
Especially is this feline marauder so in the
l)reeding season, when the little fledglings first
essay to try their wings. The cruel cat is at
tluit time unusually alert and stealthy. It
then reiiuirys equal alertness on the p;irt ot
those who love pussy, and yet who still more
appreciate the value and beauty of the birds, to
be their active ally and protector, so as thus to
circumvent the cat's cruel intent. In no other
way can they hope to defeat the designs of the
persistent enemy of the helpless nestlings.

reason of numbers, and the courage which num-
bers inspire, have compelled the cut to beat an
inglorious retreat.

Effect of Domestic Jars on Sensitive Birds.

I know one of the best ladies in Massachu-
setts, near Boston, who had a canary bird whicih
she dearly loved. She had never spoken to it
an unkind word in her life.

One Sunday the church organist was absent,
and she remained after service to play the organ
for the Sunday-school.

It made the family dinner an hour late, and
her husband, when she came homo, epoke im-

TURNING THE TABLES ON PUS.SV.

Often, too, when the older bird is busy and
absorbed in the parental duty of seeking food,
the cat steals silently upon the unsuspecting
" bread-winner," and at one fell spring destroys
almost as many lives as she herself is said ti
possess. Therefore don't let your cat kill the
birds.

Otherwise the unequal task will bo imposed
upon them of defending themselves at the risk
of their precious little lives.

In this picture they seem to have been left to
the alternative of vigorous self-defence, or de-
struction. They evidently do not choose the
latter, but are unitedly bent on "carrying the
war into Africa." They have attacked their
cruel foe on all sides, as will be seen; and, by

patiently. The dinner was put on, and they
took seats in silence, and the little bird began
to chirp at her a'j it always did.

To shame hor husband for speaking as he
had, she turned to the bird, and, for the first
time in her life, spoke to it in a violent and
angry tone, and then was silent. In less than
five minutes there was a fluttering in the
cage. She sprang to the cage. The bird was
dead.

When I wao at New Orleans, at the time of
the International Exposition, Mrs. Hendrick.i,
wife of the late Vice-President of the United
States, said to a friend of mine, who told me,
that she once knew of a mocking bird being
killed in a similar way. — O. T. Angtll.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Birds' Enemies Very Numerous.

The kindly and songful birds have enough
enemies without human antagonism. No crea-
tures of God have a harder time to live than
they. First, they have enemies in the animal
kingdom, as man has in his. The eagles, the
crows, the squirrels, the weasels are their as-
sailants. Then the hurricanes dash them against
the rocks, and beat them against lighthouses,
and tangle them in the telegraph wires, and
toss them into the sea, and drive them back in
their semi-annual migration. And they have
their own distempers to contend against, and

Princess of Wales, a law was passed in England
prohibiting pigeon-shooting as a sport in the
three kingdoms. Th^s kind of " sport " is now
made unlawful in MT,ine, New Hampshire,
Massachusetts and Rho le Island, and ia about
to be made so in Canada.

Always kill a wounded bird, or other animal,
as soon as you can. All sufToring of any crea-
ture, just before it dies, more or less poisons
the meat. — Oeo. T. An'jell.

Tha Society requires Bubacrlptlons and dona-
tions to aid It In suppressing this heartless
practice. It cannot be called amusement.

■"' Uf -i'
CRUELLY WOUNDED AND DISABLED PIGEONS AND DOVES LBFT TO THEIR FATE.

what a gauntlet of earth and sky they run be-
fore they come within range of sportsman or
taxidermist. For the Lord's sake, and for the
sake of the harvests and the orchards and the
gardens, of which they are the natural defend-
ers, let them live.— ii«\ Dr. Talmage.

Bird-Shooting Matches.

Another form of cruel "sport" consists in
bird-shooting at matches arranged for that pur-
pose. The matches include the shooting of
pigeons, turkeys, etc. It is gratifying to know
that, mainly through the instrumentality of the

A Dis-humanizing "Amusement."

" Not once or twice only, at the sea-^ide, have
I come across a sad and disgraceful sight — a
sight which haunts me still— a number of harm-
less sea-birds lying defaced and dead upon the
sand, their white plumage red with blood as
they had been tossed there, dead or half-dead,
their torture and massacre having furnished a
day's amusement to heartless and senseless
men. Amusement ! I say execrable amusement !
All killing for mere killing's sake is execrable
amusement. Can you imagine the stupid cal-
lousness, the utter iusensibility to mercy and

WANTON DE.STUUCTION OF BIRDS.

beauty, of the man who, seeing those bright,
beautiful creatures as their white, immaculate
wings flash in the sunshine over the blue waves,
can go out in a boat with his boys to teach them
to become brutes in character by rinding amuse-
ment— I say again, dis-iiumanizing amusement—
l)y wantonly murdering these fair birds of (Jod,
or cruelly wounding them, and letting them fly
away to wait and die in lonely places ? " — Arch-
tie.dcon Farrar.

A Plea for the Sea-Birds and Water-Fowl.

Stay now thine hand !
I'roclaim noi^ man's dominion

Over God's works, by strewing rocks and sand
With sea-birds' blood-stained plume and broken
pinion.

For, though kind nature from the rocks and
eand,
Washes the stains each day with briny water-
Yet, on thy hand.
Raised against God's fair creature,

Beware, lest there be found a crim ;n brand,
Indelible by any force of nature.

—R. Wilton.

The Boy who wa5i a Good Shot.

Mr. Kirkland tells the following touching
story in St. Nicholan : —

" There was a boy who was a good marksman
with a stone or a sling-shot, or a bow and arrow,
or a cross-bow, or an air-gun, or anything he
took aim with. So he went about all day,
aiming at everything he came near. Even at

WATER-FOWL DISl'DRTIXO ON THE WINQ.

Oh, stay thine hand !
Spend not thy days of leisure

In scattering death along tlie peaceful strand,
For very wantonness, or pride, or pleasure.

For bird's sake, spare !
Leave it in happy motion.

To wheel its easy circles througli the air,
Or rest on rook upon the shining ocean.

For man's sake, spare !
Leave bim this " thing of beauty,"

To glance and glide before him everywhere,
And throw a gleam on after-days of duty.

Oh, stay thine hand 1
Ctiase from this useless slaughter ;

Ill's meals he would think about good shots at
the clock, or the cat, or the flies on the wall, or
anything he chanced to see.

"Near where he lived there lived a little bird
that had a nest and five young birds. So many
large mouths in small heads, always open wide
for food, kept her hard at work. From dawn
to dark slie flew here and there, over fields and
woods and roads, getting worms, and flics, and
bugs, and seeds, and such things as she knew
were good for her young birds. It was a great
wonder what lots of food those five small things
could eat. What she brought each day would
have filled that nest full up to tlie top, yet they
ate it all and, in their way, asked for more be-
fore daylight next morning. Though it was
such hard work, she was glad to do it, and
went on day after day, always flying off with
a gay chirp, and back v;ith a bit of some kind
of food ; and though she did not eat much her-

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

self, except what stuck to her hill after she had
fell them, yet she iiovir let them want, not even
the sinalleat and weakest of them. The little
follow could not ask as loudly as the others, yet
she always fed him first.

"One (lay, when slie had picked up a worm,
and perched a minute on the wall before flying
to her neat, tlio good nuirksman saw her, and
of course aimed at her, and hit her in the side.
.She was much hurt and in great pain, yet she
lluttered and limped, and dragi^ed herself to
the foot of the tree where her nest was, but she
could not fly up to her nest, for her wing was
broken. .Siiu chirped a little and the young
ones heard her, and, as they were hungry, they
chirped back loudly, and she knew all their
voices, even the weak note of the smallest of
all ; but she could not come up to them, nor
even tell them wiiy she did not cou.o. And
when she heard the call of the small or ^ she
tried again to rise, but only one of her wind's
would move, and that just turned her over on
the side of the broken wing. All the rest of
that day the little mother lay there, and when
she chirped, her children answered, and when
they chirped, she answered ; only when the
good marksman chanced to pass by, then she
kept (]uite still. Ikit her voice grew fainter
and weaker, and late in the day the youm.' ones
could not hear it any more, but she could still
hear them. Some time in the night the mother-
bird died, and in the morning she lay there
quite cold and stiff, with her dim eyes still
turned up to the nest, where her young ones
wero dying of hunger. But they did not die so
.soon. All day long they slept, until their
hunger waked them up, and then called until
they were so tired they fell asleep again.

" The next night was very cold, and they
missed their mother's wa'-m breast, and before
day-dawn they all died, one after the other,
excepting the smallest, which was lowest down
in the nest, and in the morning he pushed up
his head and opened his yellow bill to be fed;
but there was no one to feed him, and so he
died, too, at last, with his mouth wide open
and empty. And so, the good marksman had
killed six birds witli one shot — the mother and
her five young ones. Do you not think he must
bo a proud boy?"

Boys, Spare the Birds!

The blithe, cheery little feathered songsters
who have been spending the v inter in warmer
climes, are fast returning t" our fields and
woods, and are usherin" '.i the spring with
sweet carols. Their -lo'tghtful music is dear
to every lover of nature, and every such per-
son bids them a hearty welcome. Not so, we
are pained to hear cruel boys in some localities
who are pursuing them with murderous guns
and shooting them in wanton sport. We hope
there are few such, but wherever there are any,
the law should at once be invoked to stop their
merciless slaughter. Not only are lovers of
birds, as one of the pleasantest features of
country life, interested in this matter, but the

farmers whose pecuniary sncccsii is greatly
all'ected by the presence or alwencc of the birds.
To the farmer tiiey are of incalculable value in
destroying millions of noxious insects that
would otherwise play havoc with the crops.
In one of the districts of I'Vance, a few years
since, the birds, by a mistaken policy, were .il
killed off. The conse([ueneo was, th**'- the
farmers' crops sulFired severely from tiic depre-
dations of the insect tribes. The people, dis-
covering their error, set to worl to restock the ir
fields and woods with birds, prohit)iting the
shooting of them, and in time the insect pests
were thinned out.* It is not only cruel, but a
serious injurj to agriculture, to shoot the birds.
Spare the birds, boys! — Selected.

Don't Kill the Pretty Birds !

Don't kill the birds I the pretty birds

That play among the trees ;
Twould make the earth a cliecrless place,

To see no more of these.

The little birds that sweetly sing !

Oh, let them joyous live ;
And do not seek to take their life,

W hich you can never give.

Don't kill the birds ! the little birds

That sing about the door,
Soon as the joyous spring has come.

And chilling storms are o'er.

The little birds that fondly play,

Do not disturb their sport ;
But let them warble forth their songs,

Till winter cuts them short.

Don't ' Ul the birds ! he happy birds
That cheer the field and grove;

Such harmless things to look upon.
They claim our warmest love.

Help the Humane Society with sympathy and
money to cany on tl elr good work.

* See Longfellow's poem, " Killing the Birds of Klllingworth " (page 59), in which he tells this story.

TIIK GREAT UTILITY OK BIRDS TO AORICULTURK.

School-Bcys and Birds in Australia.

Tlie Board of Kdiication for Victoria, in one
of tiieir annual reports to tlie (iovernor, tliuit
refers to tiio <lisi'oura),'ement wliioh tiiey iiavo
niven to the school-boys' cruel habit of des-
troying birds • —

"Considerable mischief having been caused

by tho wilful destruction of birds and plants
by children, we iuive issued a circular callini;
tlie attention of teachers to the subject ; and in
the case of our model schools, we have directed
that the niasiters shall fre<iuently assendile the
chihlren, for the purpr)se of pointing out to
them the wrongfulness of such conduct ; and
we have further ordered, thut any boy so
offending shall be expelled from the school."

" When one hus lost the sentiment of pity out of his heart, he Is not fit to live in
such a world as this. He might do for some other one where there is no sin or suffer-
ing, if there ho such an one, but here our compassions must be in constant exercise
if we are to live to any good purpose."

IX. THE GREAT UTILITY OF BIRDS TO AGRICULTURE.

The Crow's Value to the Farmer.

Whatever wrong the crow commits against
the cultivators of the soil maj', by a little pains-
taking, be materially lessened or wholly pre-
vented. The benefits he confers are both
numerous and important. During the time he
remains with us he destroys, so says no less an
authority than Wilson, "myriads of worms,
moles, mice, caterpillars, )V>ubi.', and heetles."
Audubon also affirms that the cic.v devours
myriads of grubs every day of the year — grubs
wliich would lay waste the farmer's fields — •
and destroys (juadrupeds innumerable, every
one of which is an enemy to his poultry and his
flocks. Dr. Harris, also, one of the most faith-
ful and accurate observers, in speaking of the
fearful ravnges wrought in our grasslands and
gardens by the grub of the May-beetles, adds
Ills testimony to the great services rendered by
crows in keeping these pests in check. We have
seen large farms, within an hour's ride of Bos-
ton, in which, over entire acres, the grass was
so completely undermined, and the roots eaten
away, that the loosened turf could be rolled up
as easily as if it had been cut by the turfiiig-
spade. In the same neighborhood whole fields
5

of corn, potatoes, and almost every kind of
garden vegetable, had been eaten at the roots
and destroyed. — 7'. M. lirtwer.

Birds vs. the Weevil and Caterpillar.

Mr. Rimmel, in a lecture at Montreal, stated
that the larva? of the beetle were injurious to
plant life, as they eat all day and night, con-
suming twice their own size in a day. The
usefulness of the lady-bird was next touched
upon in reference to its destruction of plant-
lice, and service in the green-house. After
giving a brief account of some of t!ie calamities
produced by the ravages of caterpillars in the
Old World, the lecturer declared that America
had sufrered from the ilcstructiveness of insects
as much as any country. The winter here was
favorable to their life, the weevil and otlier in-
sects taking shelter in the earth from birds
which were always too few in spring for the
multitudes of the former. The damage dont?
by the caterpillar on the Island of Montreal
was immense ; it formed upon trees a small
ring, every one of which contained 300 cater-
pillars. He (the speaker) had counted upon one
tree 100 rings, which would give 30,000 insects.

THK TORONIO HUMANK SUCIiaY.

The driving away of birilH had in nnny in-
HtancoH, been pruduutive of ruin to tietda and
orcliards wliiuh wore then Bwurinod witli in-
sects. The robin was a most usieful bird in
Knglund, on account of insects it destroyed. A
weevil would iloposit 70 to OJ eg^s in a grain of
corn, and one weevil would destroy a whole
ear, so tliat Ii,:t00 grains of corn might be s kved
in one day by one bird. The crow hud been
luolied upon as an enemy of grain, liut it was
known that iti search was f jr the lurvai of the
wircworm and such other pests. The lecturer
uextspiilco of the value of tlie fly-catcher, wood-
pecker, and otiicr birds, which were enemies to
the small green caterpillar that infested the
currant bushes. All the trees on the outsiile

THE WHITE-BELLIED SWALLOW, OR SWIFT.

of his (the lecturer's) orchard had been de-
stroyed by caterpillars, which came jver in one
nighi. The owl and Canada robin were very
useful birds, and should not be exterminated.
The wholesale destruction of birds on the Island
of Montreal was strongly condemned, as it pre-
cluded the hope of ever getting rid of insects.
Every morning guns might be heard firing, at
the Mountain ; and, although it was said birds
were not in all cases killed, yet it was worse
to scare them, as the noise drove away others.
The Witness also stated that the most wan-
ton and disgraceful thing about Montreal is the
shooting of singing birds in the Mountain,
which is practised almost daily. These birds
greatly enhance the beauty of our scenery by
their lively, graceful motions and beautiful
plumage ; and it is delightful to listen to their
singing. They are also exceedingly useful in
picking up noxious insects and caterpillars.
We should, therefore, as a community, consider

it a very groat privilege to have them ; and if
we do not protect and cherish them, at all
events nothing should be done to drive them
away or destroy them. The people of Australia
h.ive gone t> a very great ex|ienso to import
singing-birds, which they have set fri'o in vari-
ous localities to multip'y uud render their
woods an<l gardens vocal ; and doubtless we
would go to a sindlar expense if wo did not
enjoy this advantage gratis. In Australia one
would no mure think of shooting a singing-bird
t'lan a lamb or a colt; but in Can.tila much
time and powder are bestowed on hunting down
our warblers.

Were the birds of any use when shot, there

might be some little excuse ; but they are none

whatever; and the act of shooting

them is mere wanton destruction.

The Chimney Swallow, or
Swift, an Insect Eater.

Few birds are more destructive
to insects than are the swifts.
They live exclusively upon them,
and spend their whole life upon
the wing in their pursuit. Nat-
uralists have taken specimens
whose mouths and throats were
crammed so full of mosciuitoes and
other noxious insects that these
would fall out when the beak was
open. The bird does absolutely no
harm, and should never be killed.

Birds a Farmer's Sine Qua Non.

Many years ago, when rice was
scarce and very dear in Eastern ('hina, efforts
were made to biing it from Luzon, where it
was abundant. At Manilla there was, how-
ever, passed a singular law, to the effect that
no vessel for China should be allowed to loa<l
M ith rice unliss it brought to Manilla a certain
number of cages full of the little butcher birds,
well known to ornithologists. The reason foi
this most eccentric regulation simply was that
the rice in Luzon suffered much from locusts,
and these locusts were destroyed in great num-
bers by butcher birds.

A somewhat similar business is carried on
between England and New Zealand. This latttr
country, at particular seasons, is invaded by
armies of caterpillars, which clear oflf the grain
crops as completely as if mowed down by a
scythe. With the vi«w of counteracting this
plague, a novel importation has been made. It
is thus noticed by the Southern Cross : —

"Mr. Brodie has shipped 300 sparrows, care-

TIIK GREAT UTILITY OF BIRDS TO AORICULTUUE.

fully aelectod frnm the Iwst hodgerows in Rn){-
liiiid, Tho food alono, ho informa uh, put on
liDurd for them, cost .tlH. The sparrow (ines-
tion has been a loiigHtaiiding joke in Auckland,
liut the necessity to farniers of Hniall birds to
kvep down tho uruhs is admitted on all sides.
There is no otlier security in New Zealand
a^'ainst the invasion of myriads of caterpillars
widch devastate the crops."

Killing^ the Birds of Killing^worth.

One hundred years ago,
The thrifty farmers as they tilled the earth,
Heard with alarm the cawing of the crow,
That mingled with the universal ndrth,
Cassandra-like, prognosticating woe ;
They shook their heads, and doomed with

dreadful words
To swift destruction the whole race of birds.

And a town meeting was convened straightway
To set a price upon the guilty heads

Of these marauders, who, in lieu of prey.
Levied blackmail upon the garden beds

And corn-fields, and beheld without dismay
The awful scarecrow, with his fluttering
shreds;

The skeleton that wailed at their feast.

Whereby their sinful pleasure was increased.

The Squire, Parson, the Preceptor, Deacon,

All came together in the new town-hall.
With sundry farmers from t)ie region round.

The Squire presided, dignified and tall,
His air impressive and Ms reasoning sound ;

111 fared it with the birds, both great and small ;
Hardly a friend in all that crowd they found,

But enemies enough, who, every one.

Charged them with crimes beneath the sun.

When they had ended, from his place apart.
Rose the Preceptor to redress the wrong.

And trembling like a steed before a start,
Ijooked round bewildered on the expectant
throng ;

Then thought of fair Almira, and took heart
To speak out what was in him clear and strong,

Alike regardless of their smile or frown,

And quite determined not to be laughed down.

Then he said, "In this little town of yours.
You put to death by means of a committee.

The ballad singers and the troubadours,
The street musicians of the heavenly city.

The birds, who make sweet music for us all.

In our dark hjurs, as David did for Saul.

The thrush that carols at the dawn of day
From the green steeples of the piney wood ;

The oriole in the e?m ; the noisy jay,
Jargoning like a foreigner at his food;

The blue bird balanced on some topmost spray,
icTooding with melody tho neighborhood ;

Linnet and meadow- laik, and all the throng

That dwell in nests, and have the gift of song.

You slay them all ! And wherefore ? for the
gain

Of a scant handful more or leas of wheat.
Or rye, or barley, or some other grain.

Scratched up at random by industrious feet
Searching for worm or weevil after rain I

Or a few cherries that are not so sweet
As are the songs of those uninvited guests
Sung at their feast with comfortable breasts.

Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these ?

Do you ne'er think who made them, and who
taught
The dialect they speak, when melodies

Alone are the interpreters of thought?
Whose household words are songs in many keys,

Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught !
Whose habitations in the tree-tops even
Are half-way houses on the road to heaven !

What ! would you rather see the incessant stir
Of insects in the windrows of the hay.

And hear the locust and the grasshopper
Their melancholy hurdy-gurdies play?

Is this more pleasant to you than the whir
Of meadow-lark, and her sweet roundelay,

Or twitter of little field-fares, as you take

Your nooning in the shade of bush and brake ?

You call them thieves and pillagers ; but know
They are the winged wardens of your farms.

Who from the corn-fields drive the insidious
foe.
And from your harvests keepahundred harms;

Even the blackest of them all, the crow.
Renders good service as your man-at-arms,

Crushing the beetle in his coat-of-mail.

And crying havoc on the slug and snail.

How can I teach your children gentleness
And mercy to the weak, and reverence

For life, which in its weakness, or excess.
Is still a gleam of God's omnipotence !

Or, death, which, seeming darkness, is no lest
The self-same light, although averted hence,

When by your laws, your actions, and your
speech,

Y'^ou contradict the very things I teach ? "

With this he closed ; and through the audience
went
A murmur like the rustle of dead leaves ;

T«E TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

:!;- . ^'I

Tlio fariiiora burned kn<l nodiled, and aoiiie
l>ent
Thoii yellow hoadi toj(et)ior like their aheavea;
Mitii have no faith in tine-apun aoiitiinent

Wlio put their triiHt in )>ulloukH and in bouvca.
The hirda were doomed ; and, aa the record

ahowH,
A bounty oH'urod for the head of crowa.

And HO tlie dreadful maasncre l>egan ;

O'er fiolda and orcharda, and o'er woodland
orosta,
Tlie ceaHelcaa fuailado of terror ran.

Dead fell the birda, with hlood-ataina on
thuir broasta,
Or wounded crept away from sight of man,

VViiilo the young died of famine in their neata ;
A alaughtor to be told in gruuna, not worda,
The very St. Bartholomew of Birda !

The summer came, and all the birda were dead ;

The days were like liot eoala ; the very ground
\Vaa burned t;) aahea ; in the orcharda fed

Myriads of caterpillars, and around
The cultivated fields and garden beds

Hosts of devouring insects crawled, and found
No foe to chuck thair march, till they had

made
The land a desert without leaf or shade.

The farmers grew impatient, but a few

Confessed their error, and would not complain,

For, after all, the best thing one can do
When it is raining, is to let it rain.

Then they repealed the law, although tliey
knew
It would not call the deid to life again ;

As school-boya, finding their mistake too late,

Draw a wet sponge across the accusing slate.

But the next spring a stranger sight was seen,
A sight that never yet by bard was sung.

As great a wonder as it would have been
If some dumb animal had found a tongue !

A waggon, overarched with evergreen.

Upon whose boughs were wicker cages hung,

All full of singing birds, came down the street.

Filling the air with music wild and sweet.

From all the country round these birds were
brought.

By order of the town, with anxious <iuest,
And, loosened from their wicker prisony, sought

In woods and fields the places they loved best.
Singing loud canticles, which many thought

Were satires, to the authorities addressed,

While othora, liatening in green lanca averred
Such lovely muaiu never had been heard !

— Lomjfellow.

The Humane Society la anxloua, by tbe clrou-
UtloD of thla publication, to prevent a repetition
of this cruel blunder of Kllllngwortb Tarmera.

Wonderful Consumption of Insects by Birds.

Little did the farmera of Killiiigworth know
of the amaxing industry of birda in ridding
their grain-flclda of noxioua inaecta. Had they
been aware of what Baron VonTchu<li, a Swiaa
naturalist, atates in the following extract, tlie
I'reoeptor would have had a willing and aym-
pathetic audience, insteu<l o the cold and in-
creduloua one that unwillingly liatened to Ida
impaaaioned remonatrance and appeal. The
Baron aaya :

" Without birda successful agriculture ia im-
possible. They annihilate in a few months a
greater number of destructive inaecta than hu-
nuin hands can accomplish in the same numlier
of years. Among the most useful birda for this
purpoae may be classed the swallow, the wren,
the robin redbreast, titmouse, sparrow, and
finch. Tchudi tested a titmouse upon rose
bushes of his neighbor, and rid the same in a
few hours of innumerable lice. A robin reil-
breast killed in the neighborhood of eight hun-
dred (lies in an hour. A pair of night swallows
destroyed in fifteen minutes an immense swarm
of gnats. A pair of wrens flew thirty-six times
in an hour witii insects in their bills to their
nests. He considers the sparrow very impor-
tant, a pair of them carrying in a siimlo day
three hundred worms or caterpillars to their
nests — certainly a good compensation for the
few cherries which they pluck from the trees.
The generality of small birds carry to their
young ones, during the feeding period, nothing
but insects, worms, snails, spiders, etc. Suffi-
cient interest should be manifested by all to
prevent the discharge of firearms in the vicinity
of orchards, vineyards and flower gardcna, as
thereby the useful birds become frightened."

The Illinois Humane Society, in a recent re-
port, endorses the Baron's statement in the
following words: " 1'lie safety of our crops de-
pends greatly upon the preservation of inaect-
eating birds. " This ia the universal testimony
of all observant farmers everywhere.

The Reason Why Apples and Peaches Fail.

The failure of the peach crop, followed by a
failure of the apple crop, may bo predicted when
tho.je trees, festooned with cobwebs, are devas-
tated by caterpillars. There used to be plenty
of birds in the country to keep the caterpillars
in check ; but the birds have been shot by so-
called "sportsmen," with the consent, if not

BIRDH AS A DECORATION FOR BONNETS.

the uonnivanue, of the farmers, and the fruif
tn'ca aulTer. The Bhot-KUii ia an inHtrumenf. for
which thia country Iiuh no uao, im agaiuHt our
frienila the l)irtla.
T'.ia wliuloMiilo aluiighter of binU ia annio-

timoa fraught with icrioua rcaulta, aa waa ahown
a fuw ycara ainoe, wiicn, in the North-Weat,
thu graaahopiiur (IuvaHt:itt!il tlio land in conau-
(|ueni:u of the guneritl killing, by hunteri, of the
prairio'C'hickon. — Hd,

X. BIRDS AS A DECORATION FOR BONNETS.

'I'liouaanda of birda have been iluuglitered in
order to obtain tlieir plumage, win^M, etc., to
liudyod, or otherwise manipulated by millincra,
for the decoration of ladioa' bonnets. I'linrh
thua charaoteriaea thia huurtleas deairuction :^

IjO I the aeagulla alowly whirling

Over all the silver sea,
Where the whito-tootiied waveaare curling,

And the winds are blowing free,
There's a sound of wild couimotion.

And the surge ia stained with red ;
lllood incarnadines the ocean,

Sweeping round old Flamborough Head.

Tor the butchers come unheeding

All the torture as they slay,
IfelplcHS birds left slowly bleeding,

When the wings are reft away.
There the parent bird is dying,

With the crimson on her breaat,
While the little ones are lying

Left to starve in yonder nest.

What dooms all these birds to perish ?

Wliat sends forth these men to kill?
Who can have the hearts that cnerish

Such designs of doing ill ?
Sad the answer : Knglish ladies

Send the men, to gain eacli day
Wliat for matron and for maid is

All the fashion, eu folks say.

Feathers deck the hat and bonnet.

Though the plumage seemeth fair,
Punch, whene'er he looks upon it,

Sees that slaughter in the air.
Many a fashion gives employment

Unto thousands needing bread,
This, to add to your enjoyment.

Means the dying and the dead.

Wear the hat, then, sans the feather,
English women, kind and true ;

r.irds enjoy the summer weather
And the sea as much as you.

There's the riband, ailk and jewel.
Fashion's whims are oft absurd ;

This ia execrably cruel ;

Leave his feathers to the bird !

Slaug^hter of the Robins.

The London (Ontiirio) Free I'i-chh of April,
188S, aays:—

"It is regrettable to hear that in Home parts
of tlio country the roliins are beint; slaughtered
by boys and men whose only sentiment regard-
ing them is that of a mixture of i<reed and fero-
city, and who kill them for their skins— to be
used for the gratification of a perverted ta.ste
in millinery — or for mere wantonness. The
bit (Is do a great service in spring ami early
summer, in clearing tlio earth of grubs, and if
they peck at a cherry later ou, wliat of it ?
They earn it well."

A Humane Milliner and a Customer.

Miaa F.lla Wheeler Wilcox thus quotes a
dialogue between a customer and a humane
milliner on the subject : —

She stood beside me while I gave an order for a

bonnet ;
She shuddered when I said, " And put a bright

'jird's wing upon it."

A member of the Audubon Society was she,
And cutting were her comments made on
worldly folks like me.

She spoke about the helpless birds we wickedly

were harming,
Slie quoted the statistics, and they really were

alarming.

She said God meant His little birds to sing in

trees and skies.
And there was pathos in her voice and tears

were in her eyes.

" Oh, surely in this beauteous world you can

find lovely things
Enough to trim your hats," she said, "without

the dear birds' wings."

■ng

M '^y

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Extent of Bonnet Bird-Traffic.

To estimate the extent of slaughter perpe-
trated for this purpose we may take the state-
ment of a London dealer, who admits that last
year he sold two million small birds of every
possible kind and color, from the soft gray of
the wood pigeon to the gem-like splendor of the
tropical bird. Even tlie friendly robin has
been immolated to adorn the fashionable
bonnet.

One expert writer in Science shows that, on
the most moderate calculation, .'), 000,000 song-
birds are annually required to fill the I'-'niand
for the ornamentation of the hats of Ame>-ican
women. In a single season 40,000 terns were
killed on Cape Cod for exportation. Recently
the swamps of Florida iiave been depopulated
of their egrets and herons. A million of r^ils
and reed-birds (bobolinks) have been killed in
a month near Philadelphia. In four mouths
■70,000 song-birds were supplied from a single
Long Island village to N^-w York dealers, for
millinery purposes. IJou. Joiin VV. Griggs,
President of the New Jersey Senate, states
that " complaints come up from all parts of the
State of the decrease in tlie number of song and
shore-birds. Representation was made to me
that certain persons had contracts to furnish
birds by the thous.xnds to taxidermists in Phila-
delphia and New York, and that they proposed
to gather their skins in New Jersey.

The President of the Illinois Humane Society,
speaking on this subject, says: —

" And what a picture of the debasement of
human nature appears when we consider the
murderous coward, with eyes that see not, ears
that hear not, creeping ♦^^hrough the wondering
trees, creeping toward the unconscious messen-
ger of God, that incarnation of joy, that living,
thrilling, happy life, full of the very ecstasy of
laing, and, in r. moment, robbini; him of that
life and the world of the good, he, in bis way,
God's way, was doing. If it be true tiiat even
a sparrow may not fe '1 to the ground without
the knowledge of its Creator, think, finiling,
happy, loving women of our land, think of the
procession of slaughtered innocents oi the air
that have passed in review before the eye of
God — that your bonnets might bo adorned."

The Queen and English Ladies against
Bird Adornment of Bonnets.

It is encouraging to know tha<'. in England
two societies for the preservation of birds are
doing p noble, work. One is the Selborne So-
ciety, which appeals to Englishwomen "to for-
swear the present fashion of wearing foreign
or English bird skins. Our countrywoir'u are

asked to return "-a a mode which is assuredly
more becoming to tlie wearer than trophies of
robins and sandpipers." Both of these -vocieties
are under the most distinguished patronnge, in-
cluding titled ladies and such men a Tenuys( n
and Browning.

Labouchere's Truth»&ys : " I am glad to hear
that the Queen contemplates censuring the bar-
barous fashion of wearing the bodies of birds,
or parts of their bodies, in bonnets and hats
and on dresses. Her Majesty strongly disap-
proves of this practice, which most assuredly
ought to be abolished."

American [and C'ana<lian] ladies cannot afford
to be Icos thoughtful, huoiane and considerate
of the dire conse( uences of the wicked fashion
which Queen Victoria is ''aid to disapprove so
earnestly. — New York Mail and Express.

The Satirical Elide of Bonnet Adornment.

The satirical, and, if possible, humorous, side
of this question, in thus emphasized by another
poet : —

She gazed upon the burnished brace

Of plump ruffed {.Touse he showed with pride;

Angelic grief was ii. her face ;

" How could you do it, f'ear," she sighed.

"The poor, pathetic, moveless wings!
The t'ongs all hushi;d — oh, cruel shame !"

Said he : " The p.irtridge never sings."

Said she : " The sin in quite the same — "

" You men are savage through and through,

A boy is always brirging in
Some strings of birds' liggs, white and blue,

Or butterdy upon a {)in.
The angleworm in anguish dies

Impaled, th"' -.retty trout to tease — "
" My o'.n, J. 't trout with flies — "

" Don't wau from the question please !"

She quoted Burns' " Wounded Hare,"

And certain burning lines of Blake's,
And Ruskin on the fowls of air.

And Coleridge on the water snakes.
As Emerson's " Forbearance " he

Began to feel his will benumbed :
At ]5rowning"s " Donald " utterly

His soul surrendered and succumbed.

She smiled to find hor point was gained,
And went with happy partir.g words

(He subse(iuently ascertained)
To trim her hat with humming-birds I

BIRD-NESTING AND NEST RIFLING.

XI. BIRD-NESTING AND NEST-RIFLING.

" Down In the meadow the little brown t irushei
Build them a nest in the buiburry 'uu^lle8 ;
And when it ia flnishud all cosy and neat,
Three speckled cgi^'s make their pleasure complete.
•Twit— ter-ee, twittur !' they chirp to each othon
' Building a nest is no end of a bother ;
But, oh, when our dear little birdies we see,
Huw happy we'll be! how happy we'll be!'"

Bird-Nesting^.

A third form of destructive cruelty is the
robbing or rifling of birds' nests. Tlie latter is
tiie most repreliensible, unless done as directed
ill the manner prescribed in the Mo^ai" laws.

That law which is higher than any hurr.an law
says : —

"If a Inrd's nest chance to be before thee in
the way, in any tree, or on the ground, whether
they be young ones or «ggs, and the dam sitting
upon the young, or upon the eggs, thou shalt
not take the dam with the young : But thou
shalt in any wise let the dam go, and take the
young to tliee ; that it may be well with thee,
and tliat tliou mayest prolong thy days."— i>e?i<.
xxii. 6, 7.

The Frightened Birds.

"Hush! hush !" said the little brown thrush,

To her mate on the nest in the alder-busli ;

" Keep still I don't open your bill !

There's a boy coming bird-nesting over the hill.

Jjct go your wings out, so

That not an egg or the nest shall show.

Chee ! chee ! it seems to me

I'm as frightened as ever a bird can be."

Tiien still, with a quivering bill,

They watched the boy out of sight o'er the liill.

Ah, then, in tlie branches again,

Their glad song rang over vale and glen.

Oh ! oh ! if that boy could know

How glad they were when they saw him go,

Say, say, do you tliink next day

He could possibly steal tliose eggs away ?

— •1)I0)J.

The Rifled Nest.

A cruel thing that birds have seen,
Ruin where sweet peace had been,
Seeing the dear nest, which was
Theirs ilone, borne off, alas !
By a laborer; I hoard.
For this outrage, the poor bird
Says a thousand mournful things
To the wind, which, on its wings,
From her to the G uardian of the sky,
Bore her melancl-.oly cry —
Bore her tender tears. She spake
As if her fond hcait would break :
One while, in a sad, sweet note.
Gurgled from her straining throat.
She enforced her piteous tale,
Mournful prayer, and plaintive wail ;
One while, with the shrill dispute
Quite outwearied, she was mute;
Then afresh, for her dear brood.
Her liarmonious siirieks renewed.
Now she winged it round and round ;
Now she skimmed along the ground ;
Now, from bough to bough, in haste.
The delighted robber chased,
And, alighting in his path.
Seemed to say, 'twixt grief and wrath,
"Give me back, fierce rustic, rude —
Give me back my pretty brood ! "
And I saw the rustic still
Answered, "That I never will! "

— Altered from the Spanish.

The beauty of our homes and the pleasure of
out door life are largely due to the ministry of
our birds of song; yet it is believed by many
that all kinds of birds are decreasing in num-
bers by wanton destruction of the grown birds
and the cruel robbery of nests on various pre-
texts. — Illinoi* Hwnaiit Society's Report.

The Society hopes that this plea wUl find
a ready and hearty raaponse from every readier,
and that money wlU flow into the treasury to
enable it to carry on its beneficent work.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY

H'i' '■;

THE OVERTURHKD NKST.

"Are not two siwrrows snl<l for a fiirthin;;? and one of them shall not fiill on the ground without your Father ■
■St. Matt. X. 29.

"There Is b special providence in the fall of a si'arrow."— //nm/cf, V. 2.

BIRD-NT-.STING AND NEST-RIFLING.

The Overturned Nest.
Alas for the ravages of vviml and storm, which
nlao l)ring Imvoc aiiil destruction to Ijirds' nests.
Here is one thus sadly overturned. Une can
almost see in the pathetic aspect of tlie parent-
liird how sorrowfully it looks upon the cruel
destruction of itri tender hrood. Such a scene
would touch any heart, ami would almost bring
tears of sympathy to the eyes of the beholder.
'I'hc parent-bird .sees before it the tender little
group in every attitude of helplessness and
death. JIow ead and mournful would be its
twittering to its mate, as it tin; tells of the
calamity which has befel the litt stlings!

The Widowed Bird.

A robin's song the whole day long

In an apple tree was heard.
A thoughtless boy with a deadly toy

lient )ver a dying bird.
The song was huslied, a heart was crushed.

A widow bird's low moan
Upon tie breeze died in the trees,

A nest w.'s left alone.
O would that words, sweet baby birds,

tlould soothe her sorrow now !
Nestle and rest in your tiny nest

In the fragrant apple bough.
Her he.irt woiilil break but for your sake.

Yet mother love is strong ;
Her little brood must have its food

Or earth would miss its song.
Sleep, darlings, then, she'll come again

When grief's wild storm is o'er,
Tho' her mate's sweet song that made her strong

Is hushed forevermorc.

— Mm. J. V . 11. Komu.

Our Robir are Back— But Alas !

A gentleman !; ly told me for four consecu-
tive springs robiuh iid come back to a particu-
lar place in his tret ud built cheir nest. Last
spring he looked out and told his wife "our
robin is back." U'liile they were lioth looking
at the bird tlmy heard the bang of a gun, and
down dropped the b'rd. He rushed out and
had the man arrested and fined. Tlie man had
no idea that there wai cruelty in it. There is
no sentinn-ut that is so easily worked up iu the
humane heart as the sentiment of humanity.
()t course there are exceptions. We were all
liarbari ins a few jears ago. I recollect myself
when 1 was a barbarian and went along the
roatl witii a stone in my haml, ready to shy at
the first bird I saw, and, bi'ing left-lianded,
very often hit the mark. 1 used to have quite

a supply of guns until about fifteen years ago,
wiiea a Chicago gentleman, whom I asked if
he had been out shooting, said he had not —
that there was nothing in the world any longer
he desired to kill. I got to thinking of that,
and have not killed anything since with my
gun. Thus a remark dropped, a passage in the
newspaper, any light let in upon the human
heart, does some good. — Illinois Humane So-
ciety's Jli/Hirt.

" Susan and Jim and I."

We meant to be very kind;

IJut if ever we find
Another soft, gray green, moss-coated, feather-
lined nest in a heilge,

^Ve have taken a pledge —
Susan, Jimmy, and I — witl remorseful tears,

at this very minute,
That if there are eggs or little birds in it,
Robin or wren, thrush, challinch <>c linnet,

We'll leave them there

To their mother's care.

There were three of us and three of them ;
Kate — that is I — Susan and Jim.
Our mother was busy nuiking a pie.
And theirs, we think, was up in the sky,
15ut for all Susan, Jimmy, or I can tell.
She may have been getting their dinner as well.
They were left to themselves (and so were we)
In a nest in the hedgo by the willow-tree.
And when we caught sight of t' ree red little
ilufl-tuftedjhazel-eyed, open -mouthed, pink-
throated heads, we all shouted for glee.
The way we really did wrong was this:
We took them in for mother to kiss.
And she told us to put them back ;
Wliih' on the weep'ng- willow their mother was
crying " Alacl. ! "
We really heard
lloth what mother told us to do and the voice
of the mother-bird.

lint w(! three — tliat is, Susan and I and Jim —
Tliouglit we new better than either of them ;
And in spite of our mother's con\nuvnd an<i tlie

|)oor l>ird"s cry.
We diterinined to bring up the tiiree little nest-
lings ourselves, on the sly.
We each took one,
It did seem such excellent fun !
Susan fed hers on milk and bread ;
Jim got wriggling wornn for his instead.

I gave mine meat,
for, y<m know, I thought, " I'oor darling pet!
why shouldn't it have roast beef to eat ? "

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

But, oh dour ! oh dear! oh dear! How we cried,
When in spite of milk and bread and woriiia and
roast beef, the little birda died !

It's a terrilde thing to have heart auho.
I thought mine would break

As I heard the mother- bird's moan.
And looked at the gra3'-green, moss coated,

fcatl\cr-lined nest she had taken such

pains to make.
And her three little children dead and cold

as a stone.
Mother said, and it's sadly true,
"There are some wrong things one can never

undo."
And nothing we could do or say
Would bring life back to the birds that day.

The Boys and the Bird's Nest.

The story of this picture is thus told : —

Two boys were strolling tlirougli a field, when
they saw a bird's n>^at on the branch of a tree.
"I'll have it !" said Nwl, the elder of the two ;
and in a moment he had climbed the tree and
brought the nest down.

He put it on the ground carefully ; and then
Mie boys lay at full length on the grass, and
looked at the nest together. There were three
young birds in it.

" Don't be afraid, ymi cunning little chaps!"
said Frank. " We have no thought of hurting
you, have we, Ned ?"

"No, indeed!" said Ned. "We'll be as
kind to them as their own mother."

TUB BOYS AND THE BIRU's NEST.

The bitterest tears that we could weep
Wouldn't wake them out of their stiff, cold sleep.

But then
We — Susan and Jim and I — mean ne-.cr to be

so selHsh and wilful and cruel again.
And We three have buried that other three
In a soft, green, moss-covered, flower-lined

grave at the foot of the willow-tree.
And all the leaves which its branches shed
We think are tears, because they are dead.

Birds eat and destroy millions of insects.
Every little insect-eating bird killed, and every
egg taken from its nest, leaves one bird less to
destroy insects destructive to the garden and
the farm.

Just then Nel heard a chirping above his
head. Ho looked up, and saw the two parent.-
birds fluttering about in great distress. They
flew in circles over his head, and made a grieved
aoiie, that seemed to say to liim; "You have
rol>bed us of our children, (jive us lick our
children."

Ned and Frank were kind-hearted boys ; and
now they both began to be very thoughtful.
Tliey looked at each other a moment ; then
Tiank spok\ out: "I tell you what, Ned, I
don't know about this business."

" Well, / know about it," said Ned. "It's
shamef"\l ; that's what it is ! I feel like a
sneak."

" So do I," said Frank.

t-m

BIRD-NESTING AND NEST-RIFLING.

They

"It's

like a

"What right had I," aaid Ned, "to go and
tear down the house of these poor birds ?— and
to take away thoir young ones, too ! Why, I'm
worse than a burglar."

" But wc meant to be kind to the little birds,
you know," said Frank.

" Yes ; so we did," answered Ned ; " kind to
the young ones, and cruel to the old ones — all
for our own fun."

" Well, Ned, I'm just as bad as you are,"
said Frank; "but what can we do about it?"

" We'll put the neat back, as well as we can,"
said Ned.

So Ned climbed the tree again, and Frank
handed the nest up to him very gently. Ned
put it back in its place, and the old birds flew
hack to it in delight.

"They will soon repair damages," said Frank.

" Yes," said Ned ; " but ifthoy were to send
in a bill to us, it would serve us right."

The Bird's Pitiful Bereavement.

Thou little bird, of home and mate bereft,

And, voiceless, flying round the empty nest.
Full niany a morning since the cruel theft

I've seen the sorrow of the throbbing breast;
Dost thou not suffer? That inquiring eye

Seems pitifully to glance askance at mine —
Ah, little bird, would'st to this bosom fly,
'T would shelter thee till heart and pulse de-
cline;
But no, 'twas by one of my race thy anguish

came —
Thou'lt trust me not — I hide my face in shame.
-Mr8. C. M. Fairchild.

General Spinner's Plea for the Birds.

The venerable, kindhearted General F. E.
Spinner, writes from his camp in Florida, to
his friends, the boys of America, to spare the
birds. "I well recollect," he says, "that I
once shot a robin. He flew some distance,
and fell in the tall grass. I went and picked
liim up and found that I iiad inflicted a fatal
wound in his breast. Tiie poor wounded bird
looked up into my face so imploriugly that it
caused me to shed tears, and now, today, at
tlie age of eighty-five years, I am haunted by
tlie pitiful, iuiploring look of that poor inno-
cent, dying bird, and feelings of deep remorse
qome over me whenever I see a robin. I would
he willing to make great sacrifices to be made
guiltless of the wanton murder of that poor
innocent bird." Tlie General makes a special
plea for that sweetest of all Amcricau songsters,
the ill-named catbird.

The Pundita Ramabai writes to Mr. Angell:

" There is cruelty enough in my own country,

but our gentlewomen do not at present think of

beautifying themselves with dead birds. God

bless you and your hunianu work.

" Y'ours in the best bo:ids of God's love,

"Ramabai."

The Nightingale's Hidden Nest.

List to the nightingale ; she dwells just here.
Hush ! let the wood-gale softly close, for fear
The noise might drive her from her home of

love.
Here have I hunted like a very boy
To find her nest and see her feed her young.
And vainly d'd many hours employ.
At length, where rude boys never think to

look —
Ah, as I live ! her secret nest I foui(cl
Upon this white thorn stump.
How subtle is the bird ! She started out,
And caised a plaintive note of danger nigh.
But near her nest she sudden stops, with fear
She might betray her home. But thoughtfully
We leave it as we found it, all unharmed.
We will not plunder music of its dower.
Nor turn this spot of happiness to thrall.
For melody seems hid in every flower
That blossoms near thy home. These blue-
bells all
Seem bowing with the beautiful in song.
How curious is the nest ! No other bird
Uses such loose materials, or weaves
Its dwelling in such spots ! Dead oaken leaves
Are placed without and velvet moss within.
Snug lie her curious eggs, in number five.
Of darkened green, or rather olive-brown.
And the old prickly-thorn-hush guards tiiem

well.
Si) here we leave them, still unknown to wrong.
As the old woodland's legacy of song !

—John Glare.

The Boy Disarmed by a Bird's Song.

A merry boy one summer day

Witliin a garden fair was found ;
His heart was full of childish play.

While sunshiite beamed on all around ;
When o'er his head a bird he spied

Alighting on a branching tree,
And picking up a stone he cried,

" Now swift and sure my aim shall be !"
Just then there came a gusli of song

So sweet, the boy grew hushed and still ;
Ho heanl the notes so clear and strong

Wlii'h seemed the summer air to fill.
His Ui .1 fell down, his heart was stirred.

He felt he could not harm the bird.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

XII. HIAWATHA WITH BIRDS AND ANIMALS.

,_j:f

Hiawatha and Na-wa-da-ha the Singer.

Should you ask where Na-wa-da-ha
Found these songs, so wild and wayward,
I should answer, I should tell you,
" In the birds' nests in the forest.
In the eyrie of the eagle.
All the wild-fowl sang them to him,
In the moorlands aud the fenlands ;
In the melancholy marshes ;
Che-to-waik, the plover sang them,
Mah-ng, the loon, the wild goose, Wa-wa,
Tlie blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
And the grouse, the Mush-ko-da-sa.

Sha-won-da-se and the Wood Birds.

Sha-won-da-se, listless, careless.
Hud his dwelling far to southward

In the drowsy, dreamy sunshine.
He it was who sent tlie wood-birds.
Sent the robin, the 0-pe-chee,
Sent the blue bird, the O-wais-sa,
Sent the Shaw-shaw, sent the swallow,
Sent the wild-goose, Wa-wa, northward.
Brought tlie tender Indian summer.
To the melancholy northland
In the dreary moon of snow-shoes.

Youthful Hiawatha in the Woodland.

Soon the little Hiawatha
Learned of every bird its language.
Learned their names and all their secrets.
How they built their nests in summer,
Where they hid themselves in winter,
Talk with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's chiL'kens."

HIAWATHA WITH BIRDS AND ANIMALS.

Of all beasts ho learned their languajio,
Learned their names and all their secrets,
How the beavers built their lodges,
Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
How the reindeer ran so swiftly.
Why the rabbit was so timid,
Talked with them whene'er he mot tlieni.
Called them "Hiawatha's brothers."

" Don't Shoot Us, Hiawatha."
All alone walked Hiawatlia
Proudly, with his bow tmd airows ;
And the birds sang round him, o'er him,
" Do not shoot us, Hiawatha ! "
Sang the robin, the 0-pe-chee,
Sang the blue-bird, the O-wais-sa ;
" Do not shoot us, Hiawatha ! "

The Fasting of Hiawatha.

You shall hear how Hiawatha
Prayed and fasted in the forest, . . .
Saw the deer start from the thicket,
Saw the rabbit in her burrow,
Heard the pheasant, Bena drumming.
Heard the squirrel, Ad-jidau-mo,
Rattling in his hoard of acorns,
Saw the pigeon, the Ome-me,
Building nests among the pine-trees,
And in flocks the wild-goose, Wa-wa,
Flying to the fenlands, northward.
Whirring, wailing far above him.

Stronger still grew Hiawatha,
Till the darkness fell around him.
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

Up the oak-tree, close beside him.

Sprang the squirrel, Ad-jidau-mo,

In and out among the braiiches.

Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree.

Laughed, and said between his laughter,

" Do not shoot me, Hiawatha ! "

And the rabbit from his pathway

Leaped aside, and on his haunches.

Half in fear and half in frolic,

Saying to the little hunter,

" Do not shoot nie, Hiawatha ! "

But he heeded not, nor heard them.

For his thoughts wore with the red deer . . .

Hidden in the alder bushes.

There he waited till the deer came. . . .

Then, upon one knee uprising,

Hiawatha aimed an arrow, . . .

But the wary roe-buck started.

Listened with one foot up-lifted.

Leaped, as if to meet the arrow, . . .

Dead it laid him at the lake-side !

From her nest among the pine-trees
Gave a cry of lamentation,
(tave a scream of pain and famine.
" 'Tis enough !" said Mon-da-min,
I will come again to try you. . . .
Then he smiled, and said, "To-morrow
You will conquer and o'ercome me ; . .
Make a bed for me to lie in.
Let no hand disturb my slumber.
Let not Kah-gah-gee, the raven,
(/ome to haunt me and molest me. " , . .
Peacefully slept Hiawatha,
But he Iieard tiie Wa-won-ais-sa,
Heard the whip-poor-will complain.
Perched upon his lonely wigwam. , . .
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Crying from the desolate marshes.
Tells us that the day is ended. . . .

The Singing of Chi-bi-a-bos.
Most beloved by Hiawatha,
Was the gentle Chi-bi-a-bos,

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

He the best of all musicians,
He tlie HWuctest of all singers. . . ,
VVlieri lie snng the villajjo listened ;
From the lioUow reeds he fashioned
Flutes so musical and mellow. . . .
That the wood birds ceased from sinking,
And the squirrel, Ad-jidau-mo,
Ceased his cliatter in the oak-tree,
And the rabbit, the Wa-bas-so,
Sat upright to look and listen.
Yes, the blue-bird, the 0-wais-sa,
Envious, said, "0 Chi-bi-a-bos,
Teach me tones as wild and wayward,
Teach me songs as f'^l! of frenzy I "

Yes, the robin, the 0-pe-chee,

Joyous, said, "O (Jhi-bi-a-bos,

Teach mo tones as sweet and tender,

Teach me songs as full of gladness."

And the whip-poor-will, Wa won-ais-sa, *

Sobbing, said, "O Chi-bi-abos,

Teach me tones as melancholy,

Teach me songs as full of sadness ! " , , .

For he sang of peace and freedom,

Sang of beauty, love and longing ;

Sang of death and life undying

In the islaads cf the Blessed,

In the kingdom of I'o-ne-mah,

In the land ot the Hereafter !

— Lonofellow,

XIII. DOGS AND THEIR TREATMENT.

Cuvier on Dogs.

"The domestic dog," says Cuvier, "is the
most complete, the most singular, and the most
useful conquest that man has gained in the
animal world. The whol« species has become
our property ; each individual belongs entirely
to his master, acquires his disposition, knows
and defends his property, and remains attached
to him until death ; and all this, not through
constraint or necessity, but purely by the influ-
ences of gratitude and real attachment. The
swiftness, the strength, the sharp scent of the
dog have rendered him a powerful ally to man
against the lower tribes ; and were, perhaps,
necessary for the establishment of the dominion
of mankind over the whole animal creation.
The dog is the only animal which has followed
man over the whole earth."

When Old Jack Died.

When Old Jack died we stayed from school,
(they said
At home : we needn't go that day), and none
Of us ate any breakfast — only one.
And that was papa, and his eyes were red
When he came round where we were, by the
shed
Where Jack was lying, half way in the sun
And half in the shade. When we begun
To cry out loud pa turned and dropped his head
And went away j and mamma she went back
Into the kitchen. Then for a long while
All to ourselves like, wo stood there and
cried —
We thought so many good things of Old Jack,
And funny things— although we didn't smile —
We couldn't only cry when Old Jack died 1

DOGS AND THKIR TREATMKNT.

When Old Jack died it aeemed a hnman friend
Had suddenly gone from ug; that some face,
That we had loved to fondle and euihrace
From babyhood, no more would confleacend
To smile on us forever. We niigiit bend
With tearful eyes above him, interlace
Our chubby fingers o'er him, romp and race,
Plead with him, call and coax — aye, we might

send
The old huUoo up for him, whistle, hist,
(If sobs had let us) or, as wildly vain.
Snapped tliumbs, called "Speak," and he
had not replied ;
We might have gone down on our knees and
kissed
The tousled ears, and yet they must remain
Deaf, motionless, we knew — when Old Jack
died!

When Old Jack died, it seemed to us, some way,
That all the other dogs in town were pained
With our bereavement, and some that were
chained
Kven unslipped their collars on that day
To visit Jack in state, as though to pay

A last, sad tribute there, while neighbors

craned
Their heads above the high board fence, and
deigned
To sigh, " Poor dog : " remembering how they
Had cuflTed him when alive, perchance, be-
cause
For love of them he leaped to lick their
hands —
Now, that he could not, were they satisfied ?
We children thought that, as we crossed his
paws
And o'er his grave, 'way down the bottom-
lands,
Wrote " Our First Love Lies Here," when
Old Jack died !

— James Whitcomh Riley.

to Animals, to offer prizes of twenty-five dollars
each for evidence by which the Society shall be
able to convict parties who violate the laws of
Massachusetts by dog fighting. — Oeo. T.Angell,
Premlcnt.

To Boatswain, a Newfoundland Dog.

(TRinCTE AM) EPITAPH, BY LOKD BYRON.)

When . . . man returns to earth.

The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe.
The storied urns record who rest below.

Hut the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labors, fighting lives, breathes for him

alone,
Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth. . .

Near this spot

Are deposited tlie remains of one

Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,

Strength without Insolence,

Courage without Ferocity,

And all the Virtues of man without his Vices.

This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery

If inscribed over human ashes.

Is but a just tribute to the Memory of

Boatswain, a Doo

That died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. lo, 1808.

In writing about the death of this dog, Lord
Byron said : —

" Boatswain is dead ! He expired on the
18th, after sufTering much, yet retaining all
the gentleness of his nature to the last . . .
I have now lost everything. . . . "

By the will, executed in 1811, he directed
that his own body should be buried in a vault
in the garden, near his faithful dog.

Dog-Fighting an Inhuman Practice.

"A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast: but
the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." — Prov. xii. 10.

The fighting of dogs, and the baiting of rats
with terriers, and other brutal exhibitions of
the kind, are only too common. The natural
instincts of the animals are thus made to pander
to the vicious tendencies of men, and by such
means the animals are cruelly tortured, while
the spectators are deeply degraded and hard-
ened.

I am authorized by the directors of the Mas-
sachusetiB Society for the Prevention of Cruelty

The Dog Loves Kindness.
The dog can receive yet more. He craves
food ; but he also craves affection. A life
higher than his own is needed for his happi-
ness. He looketh at the hand of his master as
the inferior looketh at the superior when itself
is great enough to discover greatness. The dog
finds deity in his master. From him he takes
law and love both. From him he receives joy
so intense that even his master marvels at it,
and wonders that so slight a motion of his hand,
80 brief an utterance from his lips, can make
any being bo happy. It ia because the dog can

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIKTY.

receive ao much, that thought ranks him ao
high. An<l the capiiuity of ruueptivuiiesii ^ivoa
accurate mcaHurciiuMit ami ^nulatioii tuuiiiinala
aud to men. — Mnrniif

To My Faithful Dog.

My poor (luM>)) friend, low lying there,

A vasHal at my feot :
(ilad partner of my homo and fare ;

My shadow in the utrcet.

I lor)k into thy two bright eyes,

Tiiat fondly ga/e on mine,
And wonder wiicre tlio dilTcronce lies

iSutwixt thy tlioughts and mine.

I Heareh the wide world througli and through

For human lieart as true ;
I searcli for love that will not change,

And find that love in you.

(^ould I, poor Fido, worship fJod,

E'en as you worship me.
Or follow wliere my Master trod

With your sincerity ;

Could I sit fondly at His feet

As you, poor dog, at mine,
And serve Him with a love as sweet.

My life would grow divine !

—Bella Collie.
Toronto, April, 1888.

Proper Treatment of Dogs.

It ia very cruel to keep dogs in the house iill
the time. They want to run and play just as
much as boys do, and if kept in the house all
the time will soon become sick. They should
always have a comfortable place cold niglit.s,
and plenty of good water as often as they want
it, and they should not be fed so often as to
make them fat and unhealtliy.

Some dogs that have been badly treated be-
come cross and dangerous. Some nun and
boys treat them cruelly ; but when they liave
been treated kindly they soon show how much
they feel it. There is no animal that suffers more
when spoken to unkindly, or that is more liappy
whin spoken kindly to.

The active dog requires drink fro(|ucntly
during the hot day, as does also the cat ; and a
dish of fresli water should stand where they
can have access to it. Undoubtedly many a
dog is driven to madness through lack of water ;
and tlie testimony is that hydrophobia is almost
unknown in those localities where dogs can
drink when they wish.

Provide water — fresh, pure water. Think,

reader, how you are refreshed by a drink o(
cool water on a hot day. The lower animals
are equally in need of the means of quenching
thirat.

Every city, village and country tow»i should
be liberally Hiippllo I with drinking .''nunta ii-t
for animals, and they should be so constructed
that even the smallest dogs can drink from
them.

Mux/.ling dogs in hot weather is a form oi
extreme cruelty, preventing their free n^spira-
tion, perspiration, and drinking, wiiich are
essential to their good health. The mu/,/.les
tend nnich rather to increase the danger of
hydrophobia than to diminish it.

I do not believe there has been any instance
of a man committing suicide when he has had u
dog to love him.

"There can be no doubt," writes Mr. Dar-
win, "that dogs feel shame as distinct from
fear, and something \iiry like modesty when
begging too often for food. A great dog scorns
the snarling of a little dog, and this may be
called magnanimity."

Dogs and other pet animals are often sub-
jected to prolonged torture when sentence of
death has been pronounced by their owner.^.
The common practice of making an inexperi-
enced boy the executioner causes torture to the
once-loved pet, and has a pernicious ellcct upon
the sensibility of the boy.

When it is necessary to kill suuii animals be-
cause of old age and sickiiesH, then they should
always be killc<l instantly, without knowing
that they are going to ba killed, and without
pain.

Cruelty to Dogs Punished.

A dog who had been run over by a carriage
crawled to the door of a tanner in a town of
Abo, in Norway; the man's son, a boy fifteen
years of age, first stoned and then poured a
vessel of boiling water upon the sufTcring
animal. This act was witnessed by one of the
magistrates, and the cruel lad was condemned
by the IJoard of Magistrates of that town to the
following punishment : — He was conducted to
the place of execution by an officer of justice,
who read to him his sentence : " Inhuman
young man, because you did not assist an animal
who implored your aid by its cries, and who
derives being from the same God who gave you
life; because you added to the torture of the
agonized beast and cruelly murdered it, the
council of the city have sentenced you to wear
on your breast the name you deserve, and re-
ceive fifty stripes from the e.xecutioner."— .4non.

I had

A wi"
(hi.' V.
Who ,

b'
And .

m<
I'lioug

811

Thougl
Vet Iw
As if

DOGS AND TIIKIH TllKATMKNT.

A Friend Faithful, True and Kind.

I hud a friend, fonil, faitliful, true and kind,

A willing' partner in niy joy and ttorrow ;
One will) to my iiupcrfi'otioiiH, still, wuh l)lind
Will) from my utiun){ing look* Ins own would

horrow,
And cliour'd. the day, and thought not of the

morrow.
'i'liough all drew buuk wiiun Fortune ceased to

HUlilu,

Though all allko indillorent aoenifd to grow.
Yet two bright eyca look'd fondly in my own.
As if to any, " ISohold, thou'rt not alone."

I had a friend, liut why tell the sad tale.
How fate, remorselcHH, grudged mo e'en of

this —
Sole Holacti in the hour when grief and death
Led me to the very brink of their abyss
And taught me that forgetfuliiess were blias.
The only living thing whose love was pure.
Who gazed with me down the dark precipice.
And by my aide unchanging stood when poor.
Died, and I was left to ponder and endure.

I had a friend — Was he, I hear you say,
(Ine of the rich and noble of the earth ?
One on whom Fortune shower'd her glittering

gifts,
And hail'd him as her child e'en at his birth,
And caused to hover round him peace and

mirth ?
Not so — the friend I had could never boant
Of aught but that aficction had no dearth
Of love for him, that never could I find
Fidelity like his in human kind.

I had a friend -my faithful, trusty dog;

To thee these lines in sadness now I write —

Alas ! no n)ore thou'lt gently lick my hand.

No more I'll see those eyes so soft and bright,

Or listen to thy bark of wild delight.

No more thou'lt cheer me in my lonely hours,

Or watiih with patience for my smile each

night.
Farewell ! this tribute to thy worth I give,
Thy meni'ry in my heart till death will live.

— T. A. K.

Kinds of Cruelty to Dogs by Boys.

Cruelty, and a desire to destroy, is common
with boys of a certain class ; a fact to be de-
plored, as the youth, whose chief pleasure is in
hurling some missile at the unoironding dog, the
stray cat, or any animal that crosses their path-
way.

Kven among the profeascdly refined people
the spirit of mischief tmongboys, if not checked
by wlioleaomr instruction, ia liable to develop
into ruiliineas and cruelty. With some boys
the Hiiiipic fact than any amall animal is unpro-
tected is u signal for abuse, — Aiioit,

The Lost Traveller and His Dog.

A barking sound the ahepherd luars,

A cry aa of a dog or fo.x ;
lie halts and searches with hia eye

Among the scattered rocks.

From these abrupt and scattered rocks

A man had fallen. . . .
The dog, which still was hovering nigh.
Repeating the same timid cry.
This dog had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that since the day

When thia ill-fated traveller died,
The dog had watched about the spot.

Or by hia master's side :
How nourished there through that long time

He knows, who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling great.

Above all human estimate !

— Wordaworlh.

Greyfriars' Bobby.

This is the story told of (ireyfriars' Bobby:

A poor man died, and was buried in this
graveyard at Kdinburgh, Scotland, his only
mourner a little Scotch terrier. On the two
succeeding mornings the se.vton found the dog
lying on his master's grave, and drove him
away with hard words, dogs being against the
rules,

The third morning was cold and wet, and
when the ae.xton found him shivering on the
new-made grave, he hadn't the heart to drive
him away, and gave him something to eat.

i'"rom that time the do;; made the church-
yard hia home, every night for twelve years
and five months. No matter hov/ cold, or wet,
or stormy the night, he could not be induced
to stay away from the beloved spot, and if
shut up would howl dismally.

F.very day, when the castle-gun was fired
at one o'clock, he Avent punctuallj' to a restau-
rant near by, whore the proprietor fed him.
The Lord I'rovost of Kdinburgh exempted him
irom the dog tax, and, to mark hia admiration
of his fidelity, presented him with a handsome

THK TOllONTO IIUMANK SOCIKTY.

oollur inacribod, "(iiiKVKKiAiw' lloiiiiv. I'ro-
■eiitcd l)y till) liUHit I'kovomt (IK Kijimii/ikiii. "

Mu hiid iiiiiiiy friuniU unci viHitors, uiul iimny,
l>faiile till) men <Miii>loyfil iil»)iit tlui yiirtl, triud
tu win hia alluotioiiB ; hut liu refuHU<l to at-
tuidi Inniiiclf to uiiy one person. ImiI' twelve
yearH an<l live mouthii Ih' Ueiit liiii wiituli over
Ills iniiHtcr'H humble giuve, and then died
quietly of olil age, and was l>urie(] in a flower-
bed near hy. 'i'liu niasterV grave in immarlted
by any Mtone, hut an expensive nutrlile fountain
wan erected to the inenioryof hi» lioinelehx dog,
and the Heulptor was paid twenty-five huudrod
dollars for the model of the bron/e statue of
liolihy which hHh on top of it.

It in hanl to lielieve that all that wonderful
capacity for loving faithfulneiis ceased to exist
when the breath stopped. — Hcn. />'. Af. Todd,
ManasHUH, V<i.

Men vs. Dogs.

We take the following from M. Illuze's His-
tory of the Dog : —

" Where will you (ind a man always gratf^ful,
always aiiectionate, never HelliHJi, pusliing the
abnegation of self to the utmost limits of possi-
bility, forgetfnl of injuries and mindful only of
benefits rect'iv ed V Seek him not ; it would be
a useless task ; but tiike the first di>g you meet,
and from the moment he adopts you for his
master, you will find in liim all these (pialities.
Ho will love you without calculation. His
greatest happiness will be to be near you ; and
should you be reduccil to beg your bread, not
only will he aid you, but lie will not aliandon
you to follow a Uinj; to his palace Your friends
may quit you in misfortune, but your dog will
remain ; he will die at your feet ; or, if you de-
part before him on the great voyage, will
accompany you to your last abode."

.No Cutting or Clipping of Dogs.
Never cut a dog's ears or tail. Clipped oars
are often the cause of deafness and abscess, by
allowing the sand and dirt to enter, which is
distressing to the auit ml. Depend upon it, the
Creator never intended we should take away
what He iirovided for their relief and comfort.
It is cruel to tie a dog under a waggon. \i the
animal is tired, he must run until he becomes
exhausted. Take your poor dog in the waggon,
especially in hot weather.

A Peculiar Characteristic of Dogs.
Goldsmith, in his touching and elo(juent plea
for the dog, in alluding to a sort of mania for
dog-killing, which prevailed at the time of which
he speaks, in consequence of an unreasonable
apprehension of hydrophobia, says, among other
line things, that the dog is the only animal

which will leave his own kind voluntarily to
follow man. It is true, and the truth should
bind man to be the dog's protector and friend.
— liiilinh Witrkiniin.

The Dog and His Disgraced Master.

'I'he following anecdote illustrates in a touch-
ing manner (iohlsmith's remarks a« to the dog'u
attuehinent to man ; —

"One day 1 saw a policeman leading forcibly
along a young mun who liiid been drinking.
His face was purple, sunn.' blood added a >et
deeper stain to one ciieek, while his clothing,
disarranged and ilusty, served to heighten his
<lisrep\itablt? appearance. As ho was hustled
along the crowdi'il otreet only in the cyo of some
women could be iletectcd a little pity, mixed
with fear which a drunken man even in safe
hands inspires thcni. if he had any friends
among the many who passiMl they recognized
him not. Hut theri^ was one faithful he irt near
at hanil. Iviglit in the wake of llic observed of
all observers was an old collie dog. His gait
and mien said as plainly as speech, ' I know my
master's in disgrace, and that his degradation
reflects on me, his dog, but I am not going back
on him now when he ni'cds my presence and
sympathy most ' ll(! simply fullowed his n)as-
ter witli drooping; tail ami woe-begone look.
When tlie procession reached the Court street
station the man was taken in, but not the dog.
He hung about the building until I went away.
Two or three hours afterwards, being in the
vicinity, I determined to pass the .station an<l
see what had become of the dog. As sr)oii as I
turneil the corner of Church street I saw him.
Ife was standing ga/ing earnestly at llie ground.
He was motionless as a statue. SuiMcnly, a.-t ]
approached, he broke into life, his tail wagged
furiously, and his whole frame trembled with
)ileased excitement. Wlien I drew near I found
that he had been peering through the grating
which guard.s the noisome dungeon in wliicli
prisoners are incarcerated. I found that what
had caused hi.s sudden emotion was the dis-
covery of his master there. That individual
had come to the grating to gaze forth into tin?
day, and thus the eyes of dog and master met.
' I'oor old hoy,' the inebriate was saying, and
the joy of tiie animal at luiring the familiar
voice was nothing short of sublime. I saw no
more of dog or man ; but a constable afterwards
told me that the dog stayed alxmt all niglit,
wakeful anil watchful, and was quite reward-
ed for bis hungry vigil when his disreputable
owner in the morning issued from tiie front
door after experiencing the clemency of the
court. He didn't hang back, pretending that
he did not know the person ; but right there
before all the peojde he sprang on him in a per-
fect ecstasy of delight, and there he went career-
ing and fawning about his master's feet until tlie
two disappeared from sig\\t."— Toronto Mail.

The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so
soon ; but, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years,
and then died, what would become of me? — Sir
Walter Scoli.

DOGS ANU TIIKIK TRKATMMNT.

A Sad yet Touching " Performance."

"S|)li«h— splash, " wont that wrotoliod tlo^
thi'iiii;;h thu iinid, M» earn liaii^ing down iiml
hilt tiiil hetwcon IiIh I^j^h. "Oh, the uyly diy^\"
criid two y()unj{ ^iilH who were carrying homo
uhitlioa from thu wiiMh.

"Oh, the ugly hrntu!" ihoutod a carter ; iiiid
h«! gave his whip a U)ud crack to frighten liiiii.
lint tliu ih>g took no hcud of tlicni. lie ran
piiticntly on, not Rueining to mind wiiat people
Haid ahout liini.

Hut I wondered to hoc him run so ohstinutuly
in tliti luiddlit of the road, w lien thi^ro was room
in plenty for nim on the puvcinunt, whuro he
would not have exposed hiniHclf to be run over
by the cubs and wliipped by the carters. H it
ho ran straiglit iicforc him, just exactly hh if
ho knew his way. I felt curious about the dog,
and therefore I followed him.

It was a dull, wet day in winter; tlio rain had
been falling. Wiien opposite a public houso
the dog stood still; but all at once he rose up
on his hind legs and connnoncod walking round
in circles. A few peojile, attracted liy the
scene, came, and wo soon formed a ring. The
dog walked live times round on his hind legs,
looking tixcdly before him like a soldier on
duty, and doing his best, poor brute! There
was something inexpressibly sad in the serious
expression of this lonely dog, performing by
h i inself a few tricks that some absent master had
taught him, and doing so of his own accord,
with some secret end in view that he himself
only could know of. After taking a moment's
rest he set to work again, but this time on his
fore feet, pretending to stand on his head. And
what a poor, intelligent head it was. as, almost
shaving tho ground, it looked appealingly at us
all ! When he had walked round in this way
until he was weary, he lay down in tho midst
of the ring and made believe to be dead. He
went through all the convulsions of a dying
dog, breathing heavily, panting, sull'ering his
lower jaw to fall, and then turning ovtu' motion-
less. And ho did this so well that a stout,
honest-faced woman, who had been looking on,
exclaimed, "Poor beast!" ami drew her hand
across her eyes.

When he had thus lain apparently dead for a
minute or two ho got up and shook himself, to
show us all that the performance was ended.
He then stood up on his hind legs again, and
walked to each of us separately, begging. I
was the first to whom he came. He gazed at
mo inquiringly with his soft eyes wide open,
and followed my hand patiently to my waist

coat pocket. The basket round his neck hail a
lid to it tied down with string, and a little slit in
the lid through which to put in money. Others
also gave him something. When hn had gone
his riiunil he barked two or three times to say
good-bye, and then pattered contentedly away
at tho same jog-trot pace at which he had come.

lie went U[> tho street, and I followed him;
but when wo had reached Oxford street lie
(piii'keued suddenly and began to nm hard, so
I culled a oab and said, " Follow that dog,"
very nnu^h to tho driver's amaxement.

At length the dog turneil ilown an alloy which
tho cab could not ont'-r, so I got <uit, paid tho
cab, and followed the dog. lleru.ihcd u]) three
tlights of creaky stairs and pushed open a door
into a wietched attic. Tliere was a nwittn^ss in
the corner, but I could not at first distinguish
what was before me, I cnild only hear the
alTectionate whining of the dog, and vaguely
see him leaping upon some one against whom
ho was rubbing his heail, . iid whose foco he
was licking with an ex\ii'orancc of ijvo. I
heard a voice, too, but husky and broken, re-
peat feebly, "(Jod dog - good Jim ! " and tlion
I saw a hand untie tin iiasket, ami heard the
sound of money poured out on the couch.

" Who't that?" cried the man, covering up
the money with his sheet; and he hxjkedatme,
livid and haggard with the agiic of fever.

"Don't bo frightened," 1 said; "I am a
friend. I have followed your dog home, ami I
desire to help you if you are in need. You are
very ill, my man," I said. " You must let me
send you a doctor. "

" Oh, sir ! no, no. It's nothing but a cold —
a — cold." Ihit it was worse than that.

His dog was continuing to lick his face. 1
sent for a doctor, for a nurse, and for nmirish-
ing food, to battle against death ; but our etforts
were useless. One niglit the miser died, and on
tho morrow .Tim did not go out, as he had missed
his master the night before. When tiie men
came to carry away the body he followed the
cotlin to the cemetery. When the earth was
tlirown in he looked at me plaintively to know
what it meant. \Vhen tho burial was over I
took him homo with me, but he would not eat,
and next morning I tied the basket around his
neck and sent him out The dog arrived at
the cemetery at nightfall with his basketful of
pence, and I turned them all out upon the grave.
He suffered me, without resistance, to take off
Ilia collar, and lay down at full length near his
master's last sleeping- place. The next morning
he did not go on his rounds, for he was dead I —
Coriihill Mitijazine.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

r>' Kit (Ipstrov that licantcoiis Inittorfly, "arrayed

li. (i.ins'ii, azure, enu'ralil, ami );o1il ;

With moru iiias,'iiinri,iice iii>on its win^; —

Ilia little wiiij,'— tliiiii "ver {.'raced tlic rolio

(;ort;eou8ot r>iyaity." These lieautcoiis tliiiijfs

" Wander ''iiiil the flowers that gem tlie meado-

Uneonseioiis <if t!,eir beauty."

, —A'. T. Ceirrington.

MISCKLLANEOUS CASES OF CilUELTV.

XIV. MISCELLANEOUS CASES OF CRUELTY.

IJuaiiles horses and dogs, many other animals,
insects and ctoatures are sul)ject to tlie cruelty,
caprice or neglect of man, such us scjuirrcls,
cagecl birds, and various other domestic pets;
flies and other insects; frogs, toads, etc. As
the result of the revival of the Humane Socie-
ties auiong us, l)oth the J) jminion and Ontario
Legislatures have been move 1 to pass, or favor-
ably consider, protective laws on the subject.

Cruelty of Half Killing Toads.

It was a beautiful, calm evening, the loveli-
est of the autumnal season, when, alter the
toils an(? cares of tiie day, I set out to refret,h
my body and mind by inhaling the gentle
breeze.

Presently I saw a j;;.wU at some little distance,
who appeared to be agitated by paasion, and
was lifting and throwing with force stone after
stone, at some object beneath him. This made
me appro.icli him ami imiuire what was the
m>!.tter.

"Oh, sir," said ha, "a great ugly toad;"
and down went another stone.

" And pray," said I, " "vhy do you kill that
poor creature ? has it done you any harm '! "

"Why," sai<l he, "they don t do no go(,d,
do they ? "

" My friend, " said I, "these poor creatures
are more harmless than we, and not only do no
hurt, but do a great deal of good, in feeding on
and destroying (£uantities of snails, and other
insects, which would destroy our vegetaljlcs ;
for my own part, I am glad to see, and preserve
them in my garden, observing, as I do, how
much benefit tliey do me."

" Well," sai I the man, throwing away the
stone, which he had ready for another tliiig,
"then let iiim live; but I di<ln't know tliey
did any good."

" Nay. my fri.->nii," I replied, " your leaving
tlie poor crippled animal to die a liii,'criiig
deatli would now be more cruel than killing it
outright; doi.'t you see that you have so
covcrod it with stones that it is impossible for
it to get away, and it may have to sulTer for
many days? the most merciful thing now is
to put itout of its misery ; but let me entreat
you never again to put to deatli or torment any
of (iod's creatures, which in His wisdom He
has made, unless you have good and sullicient
reasons for doing ho." -Anon,

Children Killing Butterflies.

Stopping at the seashore a fjw days since,
we saw a number of interesting little children
gathering butterlliea, gra.sshoppers, and other
varieties of insects, and fastening thcin with
pins to the side of the hotel, where tlie poor
creatures were writhing and str'iggling to es-
cape. It was not the fault of the children.
Tiiey were very young and knew no better.
They ilid not once dream of the agony endured
by these insects, and on being told of it, all as-
sented to their being at once killed, and cheer-
fully stopped further pursuit of them. — (ko. T.
Aiuj,U.

Protection of Toads in Ontario.

It is gratifying to know that a bill was intro-
duced into the Ontario Legislature by Mv. John
Leys, M.P. P., at the session of 1888,provitliiig,
among other things, for the protection of toads.
It failed, however, to become law. It stated
that ; —

" It shall not be lawful to destroy in any way
any native toad Vnifo leiiliijiiosus) or to want(mly
or unnecessarily injure or destroy the spawn.
or larvce thereof in streams or ponds of water.''

It is related of the great Duke of Wellington,
that m'>ny years ago, he found a little boy cry-
ing bet ause he had to go away from home to
school ill another town, and there would be no
one to feed the toad which he was in the habit
of feeding every morning, and the noble-hearted
Duke, sympathizing with his young friend,
promised that he would see that the toad was
fed every morning. This he did, and letter
after letter came to this little l)ov from the
h'ield M irshil, the Duke of Wellington, telling
him tliat the toad was alive and well.

All cliildren should know that toads are not
only entirely harmless, but are among our best
friends. They live on, and destroy thousands
of ants, spiders, and the many bugs that injure
our gardens.

The Honest Old Toad.

Oh, a queer little chap is the honest old toad,

A funny old follow is he;
Living under the stone by the side of the road,

'Neath the shade of t 'o old w' ow-tree.
lie is dressed all in brown from his toe to his
crown,
Save his vest that is silvery hite

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

He takes u long nap in the heat of the «' y,
And walks in the cool, dewy niglit.
" Uaup, yaup," says the frog,
F'roin his home in tlie bog,
But the toad lie says never a word ;
He tries to be good, like the children who
should
lie seen, but never be heard.

When winter draws near, Mr. Toad goes to
bed.
And sleeps just as sound as a top.
Hut when May blossoms follow soft April
showers,
He comes out with a skip, jump, and hop ;
lie changes his dress only once, I confess, —

Every spring ; and his old worn-out coat.
With trousers and waistcoat, he tolls in a ball.
And stuHs the wiude thing down his
throat.

ITc

" K-rruk, krruk," says tlio frog,
From his home in the boy ,
But the toad ho says never & word ;
tries to bp good, like the children wlx
should
Be seen, but never be heard.

Humane Things to be Remembered.

1. Never to stick pins into butterflies and
otlier insects, unless you would like to have
somebody stick pins into you.

2. Never to throw stones at those haniiless
creatures, the frogs, unless yon would like to
have stones thrown at you in tl'c .same way.

;$. That earth worms are harmless and very
useful, and that when you use them .n fishing
they ought to be killed instantly, l)eforc you

start, by plunging them i.i a dish of boiling
water.

4. That it is very cruel to keep fish in glass
globes slowly dying.

0. Never keep 1 i-ds in cages, unless you are
prepared to carefully tond and feed them.

6. Never to carry poultry with their heads
hanging down.

Let our readers reflect, that we have no right
to injure or take the life of any of God's crea-
tures, unless for necc sary food, or for our own
preservation irom injury ; it is an aft of brutal
wickedness to torture even an insect.

"In wisdom hath He made them all," and
prcnouuccd them good. — Chililnn'n Friiiid.

Value of Toads in Gardens.

Toads sulVor greatly, chiefly at the hands of
b.iyi ,iud of others, who do not know, or who
do not think, of the value of toads
in g:M(l(ins, etc.

So useful are toads in gardens
that they are sold in France by
the dozen for the purpove of s^ocU ■
ing gardens to ti. them from
many injurious insects. The toad
lives almost entirely on insects,
and never iloos harm to plants.

The toad trade for garden jjur-
poses is a most singular branch of
tnvtlic. On some of tlu ii;arket
gardens near London as r.iany as
five crops are raised in one year,
Under such a system of culture
slugs and other insects are very
formidable foes, and to destroy
tliiui toa('l8 have been found so
useful us to i)e purchased at higli
prices. As much as a dollar and a
half a dozen is given for full-grown lively toads,
which are generally imported from France,
where they have also been in use for a long
time in an insectivorous way. Who can say
but that ShakospLai-e, who knew everything,
guessed everything, and foresaw everything,
thought of this latent value wiien he said tliat
the toad, though

" Ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. "

There is no man, or tliiid, or woman, rich or
poor, that may not be made happier by the love
of tlie lower creatures. H, then, you would
add to tl'.i; happiness of children through life,
tcacli them to say kind words and do kind acts
to these lower creature's. -Selected.

MISCELLANEOUS CASES OP CRUELTY.

ih of boiling

) tish in |L;la3»

nlesB you are

\ them.

I their heads

liavi! no iii;lit
E God'a crea-
- for our own
act of brutal
:ut.

fiem all," and
'x Fihnd.

dens.

the hands of
mow, (ir who
value of touds

Is in gardens

in France by

pose of stoclt-

. them from

;t8. The toad

y on insects,

1 to plants.

r garden ])ur-

ilar branch ni

f tht (uarket

n as i-.iany as

in one year.

iin of culture

lets are very

to destroy

ecn found so

ased at high

loUar and a

lively toads,

roni France,

ie for a long

rVho can say

everything,

le said that

iiis head."

Jinan, rich or

by the love

you would

through life,

do kind acts

Gander Pulling "Down South."

In an original and weird story by Miss Mur-
free (" C. E. Craddock ")— " The Prophet of the
Groat Smoky .N'ountain "—she devotes a large
portion of Chapter V. to a description of a most
barbarous "sport," known in various parts of
the South as "Gander I'ulling." A recent
Florida paper thus describes it: —

'A gander, with a sack drawn ')ver its body,
but with its liead, neck and wings free, is hung
up on a high pole, head downwards. A horse-
nuiu, riding quickly under it, reaches up and
catches the gander by the neck (which is
greased), and tries to pull off his head !"

Miss Murfree's story ends with the impas-
sioned remonstrance of " the prophet I'a'son,"
and his rescue of the terrified gander:—

"The pains o' the bcastis He hev made teches
the Lord in iieaveu ; fur He niiirks tlie sparrow's
fall, an' ndnds Himself o' tiie pitilul o' yeartli.
The spark o' life in this fow-el air kindled ez
fraish ez yonrn; for hevin' no soul ter save,
this gaynder hain't yearniil tlie torments o'
hell, an' I'm a goin' tj:r b|ke tins critter down."

" "Tain't yer gaymlcr !" they cried.

"lie air mi/ gaynder," sliriokod out a cliihl-
ish voice. " Mam gin mo tlie las aig, when the
gray goose laid her ladder out, and it wor soi
under the ol' Uominicky ben, as k(;m olf'n licr
nest through settin' three weeks, like a ben will
do. (Jh, take liim dow n ! take him down ! "

Kelsey reached up and took the gander down,
and the child clutched it hurriedly and ran
fleetly off. So the gander was saved !

Incipient Forms of Cruelty in Children.

Henry Bergb, in an article on "Dangerous
Education," writes as follows : —

"'Why are you crying, darling?' once in-
quired a mother of her little daughter, wlio
was trying to catcli -t, tly upon a window-
frame. ' Because, luannna, Freddy won't let
me kill it.' ' Why, my son,' said the mother,
'do you tiius annoy your little sister?' ' Me-
eauso, mamma, 1 want to kill it myself,' re-
plied the young student. Did tl>e t'longlitless
and unfeeling mother rebuke that useless ami
delilierate nwiidir of a harmless tiiou','li iiisig-
niticanl crcuUue? No; she .iimpl\ reproved
tiie interference of one of those- infant execu-
tioners with the assumed priviiej^e of the other?

" The fatl- ■ or the mother who fails to rebuke
the smallest act of cuolty to a living creature,
be it ever so humble, piepares the (irst step
in the progrciss of the child toward their own
persecution, may be ; and the encouraged tor-
mentor of a little ily may become tiie scourge
whiidi l)reaksthe hearts of the heedless parents.
Various are tiie imjdemcnt.i wliich serve to
form the character of the little being's mind,
awaiting as it were the impression to be
stamped upon it.

" The mutilation of spiders, bugs and worms ;

the teasing of cats, dogs and goats ; the de-
struction of birds' nests; throwing of stones ;
handling the bow and arrow, and firing of
pistols and guns, are tlie moral primers of
these embryo students. A. parent may regard
an insect or a bird as of no ctmsccpieiice, so
long as the child is amused ; and such an one
rarely if ever seriously interrogates liimself as
to tiie result of such criminal indulgences, or
sulfers himself to lielieve that the ol)ject of it
is being scliooled to become a tyrant and a
despot among men, until later oa, when these
cruel teachings shall have crystalli;'ed into
heartlessness and barbarity.

"To permit a cliihl to do wrong for fear of
giving him a momentary pang, is a dangerous
fondness. Plutarch records tliis comprehen-
sive law of the .Athenians, ' Honor your parents;
worsiiip the gods ; hurt not animals.'

" It is said that children are naturally cruel ;
but this is an exaggeration, althougii it may be
admitted that they are instinctively heedless,
turbulent, and curious It is, doubtlebs, very
self-couboling to parents who have ignored
their duty of inculcating gentle and benevo-
lent practices in their otl'spring, when, in after-
life they shall have ' their gray hairs brought
with sorrow to the grave,' to declare that
such a cliild was born with the attributes of
the evil one, when all the while the parent was
its tirst and ablest preceptor. The minds and
character of the young are susceptible of being
moulded, like the potter's clay, into any moral
form desired. An aiu:ient superstition once
existed, tiiat heroes could be made by feeding
men on wolves' hearts ; but courage, like vir-
tue, is tiie product of moral training. It is
easy to make a brave man or a coward, by
beginning early enough."

Mrs. ochallter, of New Orleans, truly says; —

" So soon as a child is old enough to be cruel,
it is old enough to learn of mercy. The little
one who laughs at tlie dying agonies of tlie
butterfly it crushes iii its chubl>y hands is old
enough to be taught the sin of inflicting un-
necessary pai:i."

" A Lover of Hoys," on " P'orms of Cruelty,"
in the Toronto O/ohi' of May 29tli, 1888, says ;—

" I have known mothers who leo their boys
shoot little birds for fun, and do many other
cru'^1 acts, and never reprove them. I am told

tliat at S d the school cliildren gather after

school and go iuintinL£ for birds' nests .And at

W VV school I was tohl the boys threw

a red ■'(,•. lirrcl int > the i>ond, an/i when it W(mhl
swim • sliore wuuld throw it liack till it sank.
.•Vnd tlie same iioys cuit open a catli»ii while
alive and tl.rew it into the water, ana laughed
to se^, it swimming with its bowels lianging
out, and many other cruel things for which
t.hey were never reproved. Why? Because
their motliers were deficient in sinsibility. I
have known fathers goad their children to
malness, anu then cruelly wliip their. Who
was to blame but the parents who never taught
them to feel for t!ie suli'cring of others? Can
not nearly all the crimes committed be traced
to the same cause?"

■;5:;- ■ .•t».,v',Si.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY,

lUV. IMiMl.LKS.^ AND 11(iIT.S1;L1;sS WANDKKKll^ lU LAUCK tllTlliS.

•' It Hi! Kiio.v, when walkiiijj tlioiifflitkss, in llip noiay, crowilt-.l wav,
Tliit soino pewl of woiHrois whitenpss olnsa beiidj our pathway iay ;
",V..' woulil puiis". wl.i'ic riDW wi! Iiaiitcii ; wo AOiild oftuii Icok aroiiiid,
l.cst ouf i':n'i'li;ss fi.t ^!i lulii 'rMiipii; some rare jiwel ic tlic pronnd ! "

' \Vliai, tlinn li ist. li'Hip lo ni).' of Iiliiie,

T!iOii-li 1 t,;ip least 1 -fill I i', hi\
I w.li n '.s.irn ii line for )\ii>\ :
l-'or Uioii li;wt I'lcino it undi M-

imn.

PAET II.

CARE OF THE WAIFS AND STRAYS OF OUR CITIES.

Destitute Waif-Life in London.

Tlie terrible truth of homeless destitution
anil exposure, portrayed in the realistic pic-
ture on the preceding page, receives abundant
conhrniatiou from a graphic account whinh Dr.
Barnardo (who is well known in Toronto and
elsewhere) gives of his first sad experience of
destitute waif-life in London. It is taken from
the Toronto News of the '28th
of January, 1888, and is con-
densed as follows : —

" I don't live nowheres!"

"Now, my boy, don't try
to deceive me. Where do you
come from? Where did you
sleep last night?"

It was in a building in Step-
ney, formerly used as a stable
for donkeys, but which Dr.
I'homas J. Harnardo — then a
young meilical student at the
i.,oi)('.on Hospital — had traiis-
f(. lined into a "ragged school"
for the very ]>oorest of tlie
street urchins of East Ijondon,
that the conversation, from
which the above words are
talicn, took place

'J'his stable was the cradle of
one of the greatest of modern
philanthropical institutions —
"Tlie Kast End Juvenile Mis-
sion," better known in Anicr-
iia and England as " Dr. l>;u-
iiardo's Homes for Destitute
('iiildreu." Here it was, on
one ever-memorable evening
many, muny years ago, after the general body
of Ins yoLMig scholars had gone home, that Dr.
Harnardo noticed, sitting on a bencii, a half-
starvtd and nearly naked boy, who liad listened
(juietly throughout tlie evening. The latter
.showed no disjiosition to retire, .so l)r. Har-
nardo said to him, " Come, boy, you had bettei
leave at once, or your mother will be making
iii(|niries for you."

" Please, sir, "slowlydrawU'ii the lad; "plea.se,
sir, let nie stop."

".Stop? What for? Indeed T cannot. It's
time for you to go home. W!-at do you waut
to .stop for?"

"Please, sir, do let me stop I won't do no
'arm."

"I can't let ycm stop. You must go home at
once. Your mother will know the other boys
have gone, and will wonder where you are."
"I ain't got no mother!"
"But your father, then, will be uneasy.
Where is he?"

"I ain't got no father!"
"Nonsense, boy; don't tell me such stories!
Y'on say you haven't got a father or mother?
Where are your friends, tiien?
Whore do you live ?"

" I ain't got no friends, an<l
I don't live nowheres."

Further questioning elicited
from the boy, who was only
ten years of age, that it had
been his lot to sleep for many
a weary night in empty wag-
gons, cellars, alleys, and other
places. Then, for the first time
in Dr. Barnardo's life, there
came upon him with over-
whelming force the following
thoughts : Was it possible that,
in that groat city, there were
others also homeless and desti-
tute — as young, as helpless and
as ill-prepared to stand the
trials of cdd, hunger and ex-
jiosurc as the boy before him ?
He then said :

" Tell me, my boy, are there
other poor boys like you in
London, without a home or
friends?"

" Oh, yes, sir, lots - 'caps on
'ern; more'n I could count!''

Dr. Harnardo thought tiie
boy really must be 'yiig; so to
put the matti'v ti) an ininicdiate test he prom-
ised the little fell.)W to give him a i,'uod supper
and a warm S: belter for the night if he svould
take him to where some )f these poor boy.- were.
'J'he oiler was accopted, and after the .supper the
1.W0 sallie ' forth upon tlu-ir interesting ijuest.
Hotindsditi'h was soon reached, and atter some
little circuitous wander'ng among its purlieus
Dr. ]?aruar(io and tlie boy srr )d in front of a
dea'i wall, which barred their further progress.
" Where are they, .Tim, my boy ?"
" There, sir !"

.\nd. sure enough, thee, in every variety of
postures — sorne coiled up 'ike dogs before a fire,

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCi: "Y.

80tne huddled two or tliree together, otliers
more apart — lay eleven boys ! 'I'ho rags tiiey
wore were mere apologies for clothes, and their
ages apiiarently raiii^'cd from nine ti> fourteen.
Of this scene Dr. liarnardo lias said: " It was
a liitterly cold and dry niglit, and as the li^'ht
of the moon fell upon the upturned faces of
those poor hoys, I, standing; there, realized, for
that one awful moment, the tcrrihie fact that
tiiey were all alisolutely liomeless and destitute,
and were, i)erha[is, hut srmples of nunihers of
otiiers It seemed as thuugli tlio hand of (Jod
Himself liad suddenly (uillcd aside the curtain
which concealed from my view tiie untold mis-
eries of forlorn child-life upon the streets of
L(mdou !"

".Shall we go to another li'y, sir? There's
a heap more," said .lim.

Hut Dr. Harnardo had seen enough. He
needed no fresi> proof of the truth of the hoy's
stoiy, noi' any new incentive to a life of active
ertbrt in behalf of ilestitute street lads. In a
few diiys he iuid establislied a " home " — which
has since become famous as the forerumier of
many siniilar iuhtitutions in London and else-
where— for destitute cinhlren at Stepney C'ause-
way.

If the reader will substitute a policeman for
homeless Jim, and the light of the lantern for
that of the moon, in the preceding sketch, he
will then realize how true and " to the life " is
the picture on page 80.

Cry of the Helpless Children.

V^eil tliou thy face, O nation, powerful, proud.
Though marts bo Idled and church spires
piiiie the skies,
If infiint woes auil wi'or.gs can cry ahiud.

And to (lod's laws appeals from mine can
rise.
Boast not thyself of wealth, as wise, )r free.
While ignoranee bliLulsor hunger goaits to sin;

And while the ih 'iiig flotsam of life's sea
Goes down to wreck in tempests dark and
din.
In vail' shall science tell her wondrous story,

In vain shall industry her guerdon claim,
Vainly shall valor win and wear her glory.
While on the land there lies this taint of
shame.
In vain are all the bolts of knowledge riven
While youth uidieeded smites a fast-closed
door;
In vain sliall prayeis and praises rise to heaven
While trampled lies God's chiefest gift— His
poor.
Their name is legion, and tiie demons tear them

Of unassuaged want, untamed desire ;
Whoso is the part to feed, to heal, to cheer
them ?
At whose right hand shall Ood their blood
require ?

Rise in thy might, young and Christian na-
tion !
Blot from thy shield this old and scorching
stain ;
Own thou these darkened souls as God's crea-
tion ,
His sacred trust, to be redeemed cgain.
They lift their voice, they cry to thee, their
mother,
From reeking tenement and flinty street ;
Who else shall lead, and guide, and teach ?
What other
Make straight the path before their bleeding
feet?
Stretch forth thy hand to succor and to save
them •

When, aursed in sorrow reared in sin and
pain,
The cruel mercies of mankind would give them

Forgotten graves to eloae a life of stain.
Give li,.;ht for stripes, give aid for scorn, give
healing
For hands that thrust thorn forward to their
doom ;
Give love for strict, strained justice, so revealing

A Father, not a Judge, beyond the tomb.
Hark to the voice within thy bosom pleading

For those, forsaken, who \et bear thy name;
Kemember tiiat at thy repulse or leading

They shall debase or lift on high thy fame.
In thy fc^on's life or death thou liv'st or diest —
See that, when questioned of thy duty done,
Thine eyes shall meet thy ( iod's as thou repUest :
" Of them thou gavest me h»vc I lost none."

—Ann't! lioihweli,
KiNc.BTON, ONT.. March 14, 188S.

CAUK OK THK WAIFS AND STRAYS OF OUR CITIKS.

Archdeacon Farrar oa London Waif-Life.

AichiU'.aeon Fairar, in a m'rmoii pruacliud l>y
him in Wostmiiuster Alibey in May, 1888, tlius
refers to tl»e increuHe of waif-life in Lonilou: —

" liOndon has 7, 100 streets, extending to 200
miles. Its area is .swept hy a radius of tifti^eii
miles. It haH 4,.")00,00() of souls in its crowded
spaeo. The coninioii lodu'iiiL,' liou.ies have 'JT.OOO

nii-sery of a chronic indigence and the sensuality
of a goiUess despair! . . .

"It is the L;iii sliops and the 8tre(!ts which,
throngii our fault and our callous indillerenco
and worldliness, liave made tlieni what tlu^y
are, and iiave wrecked all tliat splendid imiuor-
tality. . . . Wiicn (iod returns to judgment
will He not ask us i|uesti(>ns al)out these things ?
Will t;luist smile approval at tliis wholesale
ruin of tiiose for wiioni He died?"

WOMKN- I.OOKIN' KiR KATIIKKS. IIROTIIEHS A v' I HISIIAM ■- [N llIK (UN --lldl'S OK r.oNDON.

ifii Jihituits. an'l into tlif-m drift tiie soci il
wnckage of every class. Tlicrt^ i.s an army i f

!(•(), 000 paupers: tliere are hundreds of deserted
chUilieii. who live l>y prowliu'.' ahoiit in the
Miiirkets. the slums and the railway arches.

The increase of population means tlie iuiTcasc
mainly of its sipialor. its wn'tcliednes" and its
guilt. Tiie increase is mainl\ iiiiiont: the do ti-
tute~an increase ten per cent, more lapid in
the slums and rook(.'ries than in the parks and
s(iuare8! It is an increase of a pauper class,
living on alms and rates and odd jobs, in the

,'riiis state ot thing's has its counterpart in
ix'o>v York .lud other large cities on this conti-
nent lOvcn in Toronto the class de8cril)ed hy
Archdeacon Karrar has largely increased, and
may continue to increase, with the growth of
the city, in spite of tlie generous ellorts and
increase of our privalc charities to keep it in
check. Otliei institutions of a remedial and
preventive cl\aiacter nit rcijuired to meet tlieae
special needs of flic city.

•84

THE TORONTO HUMANK SOCIETY.

DUTY OF THE TORONTO HUMANE
SOCIETY.

One of the most important and pressing duties
wliicli the Toronto Humane Society luis set be-
fore itK'lf to perform, is the protection and
teinjxirary slielter of the deserted, neglected
and homeless waifs and strays of the city.

Mr, Heverloy Jones, Honorary Solicitor to
the Toronto Humane Society, has kindly fur-
nished the Editor with some cases which came
under his observation. He says: —

"Take a case which lately occurred in To-
ronto. A boy of twelve years old driven from
Ilia bed l)y drunken parents on Christmas eve,
and compelled to sleep in a shed. From there
he gravitated to the streets — out! night in a
common lodging house, another winter's night
sleeping under a pile of lumber in a yard oppo-
site Osgood e
Hall, and finally
making his gen-
eral abode dur-
ing the winter
under a doorstep
on Bay street,
wjiere he had
collected a few
ragh and clothes
as covering. Pic-
ture him taken
down with in-
flammation of
the Ixiwels, and,
w' lie sleeping
on a pile of pajier
in a city news-
paper office, the
other newsboys
may be .hciii in
play pelting him with paper, little thinking
in their boyish glee that he was fast approach-
ing thi great gulf. In a few hours he lias gone
to join tiif majority, and society in response
it«k(' the old question of Cain, 'Am I my bro-
ther'!) keeper v "

I 'p to the present year, there has been no
legal machinery in exirttcnc^e by which such a
Society as ours could practically and effectively
deal with this sad and helpless class But, with
the concurrence and aid of Hon. .\ttorney-
(leneral Mowat, an Act was passed in March,
1888, containing, amongst other provisions, the
following: -

'•On proof that a child undor fourteen years
of iigi", bv reason of tlie neglect, crime, drindi-
eniies.s, or other vices of its parent, or from
orphanage, or any other cnuse, is growing up
in circun)Htan> cs exposing such child to bad, or
dissolute life, (ir on proof that any child under
fourteen years of age, being an orphan, has been
found begging in any street, highway, or public
place, a judge may order such child to l)c com-
mitted to any Industrial School, or Kefuge, for
Ijoys or girls, or other institution, subject to

WHERE THE WAIFS 'DO MO.ST CONGREOATE

the inspection of the Inapoctor of Prisons and
Asv lums, or to any suitable Charita))le Society
authoii/ed under fhe Act visperlinii Aiiiiri'tilicfn
and Miitoin (Rev. tStat. O., ch. Vi), and wilting
to receive such child, to be there kept, caied
for and educated, for a period not extending
beyond the jjeriod at which such child shall
attain the age of eighteen years,"

Mr. .Jones further says: —

"Tiie function of tlie Humane Society in one
of its Ijranches is the prevention of cruelty to
^liildren. Tlio fact of the existence of such a
Society will deter many of those who practise
snch cruelty from acting up to their brutal in-
stincts.

" Siiij<i<'MionK (M to How to Proceed. -^Aa soon
as anyone is aware of any act of cruelty to ani-
mals, or of cruelty or neglect by parents of their
cliildren, at once notify the Secretary of the
Humane Society (Post Office Hox '2(i54, 'J"o-
ronto), or, if the case is one re(iuiring imme-
diate attention,
teleplione to No.
1370. Better
still, notify In-
spector Arclia-
bold at the i)o-
liee station. In
all cases try and
procure all the
evidence l/ossi-
ble."

The further
purpose of the
TorontoHumanc
Society in this
direction is tlius
lucidly stated
by the Kev. Dr.
Wild, of Toronto, in a sermon preached by him,
on the -iOth of -January, 1888:—

"This Society nndertnkes also to protect
children from unnecnssiuy abuse and (truelty,
even of i)arent3. As strange as it may seem,
we ha\ (1 a inimbcr in our city, and in other large
cities — thenundicris very great whose parents
are lazy, indifri:ri.'nt and dijcp sunk in vice, who
force their little girls and boys out with a baBkil.
on the arm to come to our doors and collect

firovLsions. The thing is degrading to these
ittle girls anil iioys. How are wo to expect
that iiiey will grow up to be respectable with
us ? . . . Tlie law ought to enable the So-
ciety to take these chililren away from such
parents, and make them work or fast, if they
choose; but train the children to some useful
calling. We have got to keep them ; and I
v/ould far rather keep them by giving them a
training and a trade than keep them, as they
will be in future life, a nuisance to the city.
Then, of course, we have childrew that are
orphans, who fall into the hands of guardians
who become very ungrateful and persecuting.
We have had some wonderful instances in our
own city. No man ought to have such power.
When the poor child is left in the hands of
strangers, when the mother and the father are

CARE OF THH WAIFS AND STUAYS OF OUR CITIKS.

f,'one, we ought to l)e r.ioveil to have sonso ciioiigli
iiiid power enough to forhid ivnv one uniieoes-
Niirity puiii)tliiii^ it. Voii ttiko it in atcp-piirvnts
iiiiil see how often thuy are led astray; what
Haniples of eruelty we have had. We ought to
have an olllcer wlio, the monioiit buoii cruelty
in made kiu)wn, should enter the house, havin;^
proper autiiority to take that ehild and put it
uniUa- the generous and wise care of the eity.
Then we have children that are abandoned
honietinies by parents going away and leaving
them ; and there is a kind of abandonment that
takes place in this eity that costs us lots of
money. I think it in tlie most brutal of all
things for a man to leave the wife of his youth,

as thyself." It was the law which ordered that
" the stranger which dwellcth among you shall
bo unto you as one born anmng you. Thou
shalt love him as thypolf. " . . The I'aalms

generally insists on this side of human duty:
"A good man is niendful and lendeth." "lUess-
cd bo tlie man that provideth for the sick and
needy: the Lord shall deliver him in the time
of trouble." (Prayer Hook version). The Pro-
verbs, in which the highest wisdom is ,so tersely
condensed, t'lls us that "ho that hath mercy
upon the poor, happy is he; " and that he (iuso.

HUMANK society's OFFICER PROTEOTINO CHILI) FROM ITS CUUKI, MOTHER.

with three or four small children, and run away
to the United States or some other place, leav-
ing the poor woman to struggle as best she c ii.
We are very particular about having extradi-
tion treaties on money matters. I would urge
upon the United States, (,'anada and Britain
this, that whenever a man is Eo vile, in what-
ever country he nuiy be, as to run away and
leave his family, he should be immediately
arrested, brought back, ]Hit in jail, .set to work,
and the contribution from his work given to
Ills family. It is one of the most heartless
things on this earth, and you have very little
idea how couunon it is in tliis city."

The Divine Warrant for this Duty.

It was the Mosaio law (let us never forget it)
which first said, " Thou shalt love thy neighbor

doing) " iionoreth Cod." Again: " lie that
hath pity upon the poor linktli uutothe Lord:
and look, what he layeth out, it shall be paid
him again." Isaia'.i asks: '' Is not this the fact
that I have chosen, to loose the bauds of wick-
edness, to undo the li"avy burthens, to let the
oppressed go free, and that ye l)reak every
yoke ? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hun-
gry, and that thou bring the poor that arc cast
out to thy home; when thou secst the naked
that tho',1 cover him, and that thou hide not
thyself from thine own ticsh ? " . . . Such
a life of piety as that of Tobit shows how much
that was saintlj' survived (in those dayi); and
what can be more lieautifal than his advice to
his son? — "Be merciful after thy power. Il

TlIK TORONTO HUxMANE SOCIIOTV.

thou hast much, give plentcously. If thou hast
little, do thy diligence gladly to give of that
little." . . .

This duty of care and love which man owes to
man is, no doubt, to be paid in part by ell'oi'ts to
improve the bodily and material circuiiiHtancos
of those who need it. Our Lord Jesus Christ
went about doing good — doing good in this re-
stricted seuHc. lie kept two classes especially
in His view, or, rather, constantly about Him

-the poor and the sick. . . . Certainly
tlic poor and tlie suliuring were His associates.
Ho lived with them; He died among tliem. .
. . Ntay, when He would name a class tliat
should continue to represent Him among men.
. . . He chose . . . the poor and tlio
Butrering. It is of these that He will say ; —

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of
the least of these My bretlii'cn, ye liave done it
unto Me." — Canon Liddon (May, ISSSJ.

Sow ye beside all waters,

Wliere the dew of heaven may fall;
Ye sliall reap if ye be not weary.

For the Spirit breathes over all.
Sow, though the thorns may wound thee;

One wore the thorns for thee ;
And, tliough the cold world scorn thee,

Patient and hopeful be.

Work in the wild waste places,

Tliougli n(jnc thy love may own;
Clod marks the down of the thistle

The wandering wind hath sown.
Cnl with thy heart in heaven,

Tliy strength, thy Master's niijjlit,
Till the M'ild waste places blossom

In the warmth of a .Saviour's liglit!

Sow, tliough the rouk repel thee.

In its cold and sterile pride;
Some cleft may there be riven.

Where the little seed may hide.
Fear not, for sn.ne will flourish;

And, though the tares abound,
Like the willows by the waters

Will the scattered grain be found.

Sow wlieve tiie witheiiiig poison

Is the young bud's earliest breath.
And the wild, unwholesome blossom

Bears in its beauty — death.
The ground impure, o'ertrodden

By life's disfigured years.
Though blood and guilt have stained it,

May yet be soft from tears !

— Anna Shiplon.

Forms of Cruelty to Children.

Fimt—ChiUlren of tender years are too often
neglcrlud, starved, beaten, ami frozen, by parents
of intemperate and vicious habits, and such
children are compelled to associate with aban-
doned persons of both sexes

Second — Adopted children are somotimfts
overworked, undeifi d, and scantily clothed, by
those to whom they h.tve been consigned. Such
treatment is almost invariably accompanied
with corporal cruelty, often of the grossest
character.

Third — Young children are occasionally
bound out, given, let, or sold, to acrobats,
variety actoi's, singers, organ-grinders, dancers,
jugglers, circus-riders, peddlers, beggars, show-
men, and otiiers, who employ them in ways and
places that are injurious to liealth and danger-
ous to limb and life, and fatal to good morals,
and who often force them by cruelty to adopt
injurious and unlawful habits and callings.

/''ciHrt/i— Sometimes ehildren are decoyed into
practices and places terribly and fatally injuri-
ous to health anil morals, an<l outlawed by
society.

Fifth — Many children, either from lack of
proper training and restraint, or tlirough abuse
and neglect, or from being left by accident or
design without homes or guardians, become
vagrants, suffering for food, clothing, and care,
and unless rescued, growing up to vicious and
criminal lives.

Sixth — There arc numerous other common
and occasional forms of abuse and neglect of
children which cannot be specified brielly, but
which demand prompt and patient attention
from intelligent philanthropists. — Ohio Humane
Soci'li/'n Jic/ioil, /,S',S'7.

Will the citizens of Toronto give the Society
not only their active sympathy, but also the
means to establish a temporary Home as a re-
fuge for children subject to this cruelty ?

A writer on the foregoing subject truly says:

" There arc hundreds of thousands of parents
among the depra\'eil and criminal classes of this
country whom no ciiild can be taught to love
or ouglit to be.

"There are Ininlieds of thousands of homes
where the name (,f the Almighty is never heard,
cKcept in words of blasphemy.

'lUit there is not a child in one of those
homes that may not be taught to feed the birds
and pat the horses, and enjoy making happy all
harmless creatures it meets, and so be doing
acts of kindness a hundred times a day, that
will make it not only happier and better, but
more merciful in all the relations of life."

IIow tMs can be l)e8t brought about 's the

CARK OF THK WAIFS AND STRAYS OF OUR (JITIKS.

serious and pressing problem which the Toronto
iiuinaue Society is anxious to solve.

Brothers! —

'iVIid tlie hopings and tlie fears,
And the ri'stlBHdiiosH of years,
We repeat tiiis promise our—
Wo believe it more ami more —
" Hread upon tlie watt rs cast
SluiU lie gathered at the last."

Soon, lik(! diiat, ti> you and tne,
Will our earthly trea»uie« l>c;
Rut the loviug word and de':d
To another ia hiH need,
They will unforgottcn be!
They will live eternally —
" Bread upon the w iters cast
Shall be gathered at the last. "

Fast the moments slip away,
Soon our mortal powers dei ay,
Low and lower sinks the sun,
\Vhat wo do must soon be done!
Then what rai)ture if we hear
Thousand voices rin^'ing clear —
" Bread upon the waters cast
Shall be gathered at the lust. "

— Anon.

Many a child goes astray, simply because
home lacks sunshine. A child needs Hiniies as
much as flowers need sunlieanis. If home is the
place where faces are sour and words harsh, and
fault-fiuding is ever in the ascendant, they will
spend as many hours as possible elsewhere.

"Inasmuch."

0, have you envied Mary's place.

So blest, at Jesus' feet ?
And longed to wear the wond'roiis grace

That makes her name so sweet?

hoar His voice from heaven's bright throne.

From all earth's woes .set free,
"The service to My brethren done,

The' same is done to Me. "

Thus may we sit in Mary's place.

May bathe His weary feet;
And humbly share that wond'rous gr .ce,

Tha.t makes nor name so sweet I

— A non.

The Critical Age of Children.

Lord Shaftesbury recently stated at a public
meeting in London, that he had ascertained
from personal oViservation that of adult male

ciiininals in that city, nearly all had fallen into
a course of crime between the agen of eight and
sixteen years; and that if a hoy lived an hone»t
life up to twentv years of ago, there wore fcnty
nine chances in Iiih favor, and only one against
him.

The Key to Others' Hearts.

• Dialects of love are numy

Though the language bo but one;
Study all you can, or any,

Wl'.ile life's precious hours run on.

Cloned the heart-door nf thy brother,
All its treasure long eimcealodl

One key fails, tlien try another,
S >on the rusty lock will yield.

Silence is no certain token
That no secret grief is there;

Sonow, which is never spoken,
Is the lieaviest load to bear!

--.1/l<< lldvrrijtll.

The Rights of Children.

Mr. Herbert Spencer, in one of his eailier
essays, lays dos'. ii that jiarental rule, in \erv
mauj' cases, is, without duubt, simple de8j>nt
ism. It lias for its basis, not reason nor atlei;-
tion, but mere authority. Tiiic is putting ihe
thing strongly, Imt it is correct. ('Iiildreii's
rights are ignore 1, esp' 'iaiiy among the vicious
classes, when it is always conveniently forgot-
ten that "ley have iiiiy righ'.v. If a chiM is
neglected, .ibused, untaught, K'lt to pick up ids
living how he can, it ia, of course, mifortunate
for him, and very much to his parents' dis-
credit; but it is not felt that any one's rights
are invaded, ceitniiily not a child's.

How Lads get their Start in Crime

Up in No. .'i I'olice Station, Tornilo, the oilier
night, little .liiiiMiiy stood before the .Ser-
geant on a charge of stealing thi'eo pairs of slip-
pers. 'J'hc pidiceman, who arristed the boy,
towered over him about four feet, and eoidd
have stowed the waif away in one of his ofiiiial
overcoat pockets. Johnny was not a bad look
inii boy, but his features liespoke want of food
and ?!ourishment. Hisclothes were ragged, and
on his feet were tied a ])air of rubbeiy throe
times too large for him. When he wa i l)cing
" searched " he had to unfasten pins from bis
buttonless jacket, and liis jioekets were bottom
less, so that nothing contraband was found in
his clothes but a solitary match. The fact is,
.Johnny was shoeless and hungry, and the tempt-

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THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

ing tliroo pairs of slippers, wliicli ho thought
would enrich liini, wcro too gruat a toinptatioii
for the poor hui, so In^ anatuhuJ them, ran away,
and full into tlio arms of the, big policeman re-
ferred to.

As the boy was being conducted down staira,
I remarked to the Sergeant that if I were clothed
and fed like .lohnny 1 guess I'd steal, too; and
the Sergeant said he ilidn't know as he'd b'anic
iTie if I did. Tlien we discussed boys in general,
and honuiloss ones in particular, of which latter
class, I am led to believe, this city of churches
is full to overflowing. Scarcely a day passes
that friendless boys are not to be found at the
difierent police stations on charges of sneak-
tiiieving, and the question of " What shall we
do with our boys ? " is one that should at once
engage the attention of pliilanthropic people, if
not of our civic solons. Joiinny's fate for steal-
ing the slippers was a term in jail; tliere to
r isociate with hardened criminals, aii^l from
tliere to come out pledged to further depreda-
tions against a community wliich, seemingly,
does not care abuut fiiendli'ss boys, and wliieh
certainly seems to take but little interest in
them. — Toronto Woiid.

Difficulty in Oealingf Prudentially with such
Cases as the Foregoing.

Alas, that such cases as the foregoing do
viccur! They are most difficult to deal with,
in the interests alike of humanity and of justice
combined. There is no doubt as to the crime
itself, nor as to the penalty which the law very
properly attaches to it

Hiu-ein lies the ditiicnlty in dealing pruden
tially with such sad, sad eases, so as not, on the
oi'.e hand, to lessen the just restraints against
the commission of such crimes; and yet, on tiie
other hand, not to run the g'-eater risk of im-
perilling the young life, as yet untainted by
wilfulness in crime, to the debasing influence
of hardened and abandoned criminals. The
tiiree following extracts ilescribc in graphic,
yet poetic, language how the presiding magis-
trates were moved to deal with similar cases of
theft, the impelling cause, in the first and second,
being h\niger anil want: —

'' ' Discharged,' did you say, Mister Judge ?"

We laid in a cell. Mister .Judgi', all tiie nigiit

long,
Jinimie and me, waitin' and wishin' for the

mornin' to dawn,
'Cause wo couldn't sleep. Mister Judge, in that

coUl, damp place;

And Jiinmie was 'most scared to death at the

wild, ma('. race
That the 'vits kept runnin' all through tiie dark

night;
Tiiat's why wo were glad. Mister Judge, to seo

tlie daylight.

Please, Mister Judge, we are not very Ijad little

boys,
And tlie p'liceman what took us said we're some

motiier's joys ;
lie was wrong, Mister Judge, and should only

have said
Tiiat we wee two little outcasts, for our mother

is dead ;
And there's no o;ie to care for us, at least here

below,
And no roof that shelters us from the rain and

the snow.

A preacher once told us that 'way up in tlie blue

There was a God that was watchin' all that lit-
tle l)oys do.

And that He loved little children, and His love
it was free ;

But, I guess. Mister Judge, He don't love Jim-
mie or me.

For I prayetl, and I prayed, 'till I was 'most out
of breath,

For something to eat, and to keep Jimmic from
death.

And that's why we're here. Mister Judge; for

you know
There was no help from above, I must find it

below.
'Twas no use beggin', and be told in God I must

trust,
For I begged all the day, and got never a crust ;
And there was poor .riinmie, holdin' his cold

little feet.
And cry in' and moanin' for some thin' to eat.

So I went to a house that was n>^t very fai-.
And saw, Mister.Judge, that- the back door was

ajar;
And a table was settin' right close to the door,
Just loaded witli r.ies, about twenty, or more.
So I quickly stepped in and grabbed one to my

breast —
Tlie p'liceman then caugiit us, and you know

the >'est.

" Disciiargad," did you say. Mister Judge? —

both Jimmie and I ?
And— and we ain't got to bo jailed, 'cause I took

a pie ?
And— we can eat I'dl we want ? how funny 'twill

seem.

CARE OF THE WAIFS AND STRAYS OF OUR CITIES.

find it
id I must

far,
loor was

Fudge ?—
se 1 took
iny 'twill

—Say, Jiinmie, pinch me, for I — I think it's a

dream;
And you'll give ua work, 8';mmer, winter and

fall-
Say, Jimmie, I think there's a God after all !

— A non.

"Yes, Guilty— but, Sentence Deferred."

She stood at the bar of justice,

A creature wan and wild.
In form t.jo small for a woman.

In features too old for a chilil ;
Tor a look so worn and patlietic

Was stamped on her pale, younj^ face,
It scorned long years of suffering

Must have left that silent trace.

" Your name ? " said the Judge as he eyed her

With kindly look, yet kien,
" Is Alary McGuire, if you please sir;"

" And your age? " — " I an. turned fifteen."
" Well, Mary," and then from a paper

Me slowly and gravely read,
" You are charged here — I'm sorry to say it —

With stealing three loaves of bread.

" You look not like an offender,

And I hope that you can show
The charge to bo false. Now, tell me,

Are you guilty of this, or no ? "
A passionate burst of weeping

Was at first her solo reply,
But she dried her eyes in a moment,

And looked in the Judge's eye.

" 1 will tell you how it was, sir.

My fatlier and mother are dnad,
And my little brothers and sisters

Were hungry and asked me for bi oad.
At first I earned it for them,

Hy working hard all day ;
But somehow ' imes were bad, sir,

And the work all fell away.

" I could get no more employment ;

The weather was bitter cold ;
The voung ones cried and shivered —

(Little Johnny's but four years old) ;
So, A'hat was I to do, sir ? —

I am guilty, but do not condemn;
I took— oh, was it stealing? —

The bread to give to them. "

Every mon in the court-room —
(irey-beard and thoughtless youth —

Knew, as he looked upon her,
That the prisoner spoke the truth.

Out from their pockets came handkerchiefs.
Out from their eyes sprung tears,
7 ■

And out from the old faded wallets
Treasures hoarded for years. ,.

The Judge's face was a study —

Tl)e strangest you ever saw.
As he cleared his throat and murmured

Something about the law.
For one so learned in such matters.

So wise in dealing witii men.
He seemed on a simple question.

Sorely puzzled just then.

But no one blamed him or wondered,

When at last these words were lieard:
The sentence of tliis yourg prisoner

Is, for the present, deferred.
And no one blamed him, or wondered,

When he went to her and smiled,
And tenderly led from the court-room.

Himself, the "guilty " child.

" I'll Give You a Chance— Make the Most
of It— Go ! "

A stem old judge, in relentless mood.
Glanced at the two who before him stood —
She was bowed and haggard and old.
He was young and defiant and bold —
Mother and son ; and to gaze at tlie pair,
Thpir different attitudes, look and air,
f 'lie would beliove, ere the truth was won,
'j^he mother convicted, and not the son.

There was the mother ; the boy stood nigh
With a shameless look, and his head held high.
Age had come ovc her, sorrow and care ;
These mattered but little so he was there.
A prop to her years and a light to her eyes,
And prized as only a mother can prize;
But what for him could a mother say,
Waiting his doom on the sentence day ?'

Her husband had died in his shame and sin ;
And she a widow, her living to win.
Had toiled and struggled from morn to night ;
Making with want a wearisome fight.
Bent over her work with resolute zeal.
Till she felt her whole frame totter and reel ;
Her weak limbs trenddc, her eyes grow dim.
But she had her boy, and she toiled for him.

And he— he stood in the criminal dock
With a heart as liard as tlie flinty rock,
An impudent gbince and reckless air,
Braving the scorn of the gazers there ;
Drenched in crime, and encompassed round
With proof of his guilt by captors found.
Ready to stand, as he phrased it, "game."
Holding not crime, but penitence, ahame.

j-Hl

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

J'oiirctl in a flood o'er the m ither'a cheok

Tim moi&tuning tuarswhuri; the tongue was weak,

And she saw througli tlie mist of thoaa burning

tears,
Only the cliild in his innocent years ;
Slie rcmenibcrcd him pure as a chihl might be,
Tlie guilt of tlie presunt she could not see ;
And for mercy her wistful looks made prayer
To the stern old judge in hia cushioned chair.

" Woman," the old judge crabbedly said,
"Your boy is the neighborhood's plague and

dread ;
Of a gang of reprobates chosen chief;
An idler and rioter, ruffian and thief.
The jury did right, for the facts were plain;
Denial is idle, excuses are vain.
'J"he sentence the court imposes is one — "
" Your Honor," she cried, " he's my only son."

The tipstaves grinned at the words she spoke.
And a ripple of fun through the court-room

b ,ke;
Cut over the face of the culprit came

An angry lookand a shadow of shame;
" Don't laugli at my uiotiier," aloud cries ; ;;
" You've got me fast and can deal with me.
But she's too good for j'our cowardly jeers.
And I'll — " then his utterance clioked withtcaro.

The judge for a moment bent his head,
And looked at him keenly, and then lie said —
" \Ve suspend the sentence; the boy can go; '"
And the words were tremulous, forced and low.
" But stay ! " and he raised his finger than —
" Don't let tliem bring him hithei' again.
There is something good in you yet, I know ;
I'll give you a chance — m.ake the most of it — go I"

The twain went forth, and the old judge said:
" I meant to liave given him a year instead.
And perhaps 'tis a ilifficult thing to tell
If clemency here be ill or well.
But a rock was struck in that ca'lous heart.
From which a fountain of good may start.
For one on t!".e ocean of crime long tossed
Who loves his mother, is not quite lost. "

— Anon.

I. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF WAIF-LIFE.

"What wouldst thou be?
A blessing to each one surroundiii^' mc ;
A chalice of dew to the weary heart,
A sunbeam of Joy, bidding sorrow depart ;
To the storm-tossed vessel, a beacon Iii;ht,
A ni^'htingale's song in the darkest night,
A beckoning hand to a far-off goal.
An angel of love to each friendless soul ;

Such would I be ;
Oh, that such happiness were for nie."

— A non.

Little do the general public know of the lights,
.and, alas ! too frequently the terrible shadows
of waif-life. To particularize, or to picture
them in ordinary prosaic language, would be
but to present them in a dim, shadowy and
imperfect form. And this is so from the fact
that even the lights of waif life are so transient
and fitful, while the shadows have, in many
cases, a darker hue than we ordinarily see in
the superficial glance which we take at them.
The skill of the word-painter and of the poet
have, under such circumstances, been brought
into requisition to present them (as they do so
graphically) with the striking vividness of real-
ity and truth — the truth being, toe, as in their
cose especially, stranger than fiction.

The Editor of this publication prefers, there-
fore, to avail himself of the skill of these writers.
They portray with such real effect the actual
and sadly prosaic life— with all its vicissitudes
of storm and sunshine — of what has popularly
been regarded as the "dangerous classes" in
our cities. And yet, dark as the shadows are,
and hopeless as many cases may appear, it has
been over and over again demonstrated that the
thoughtful, considerate and practical kindness
shown to the youthful among this class by the
few workers in this wide field of Christian char-
ity has been highly successful, and has brought
about results which have gladdened the hearts
and encourage I the hopes of even the doubtful
and, at times, despondent among such workers.

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF WAIF-LIFE.

It ma- be here observed that such workers, to
liu at all successful, must have strong personal
sympathy. They must, as it we'-e, make them-
selves one with the class which they are striv-
ing to uplift. It must be something like the
influence which Lord Shaftesbury exerted upon
a man who had an evil reputation ; —

" What did Lord Shaftesbury say to you that
made you a reformed man?"

" Oh, he didn't say much. He just sat down
by my side and said, 'Jack, we will make a
man out of you yet ' ! "

It was this natural, sympathetic appeal to
}ii8 manhood, that saved Jack. So it will be
always if tliere is love and earnestness on the
one side, and something of the man or woman
Btill left to which such a silent yet irresistible
appeal can be made.

Tlicre is so mucii of "human nature," and so
much of sad patlios in the liistory of individual
waifs, that no one can present the case of the
neglected and homeless children, and those in
our cities who are harshly treated, or aban-
doned by their parents, so well as the writers
of the following extracts. (Iraphically, and yet
toujhingly and plaintively, they tell the tale of
the privation, discouragements, needs and sor-
rows of these destitute oaes in our midst.

The " minor in the carol " of these songs and
verses is the more eflectively produced by the
use of the dialect, or the vernacular, of the class
described. The sympathetic ear can, therefore,
the more easily detect it, as an undertone of
deeper pathos than would be felt if the story, or
tale of trouble or sorrow, were told in polite
speech and in the colder form of simple jirose.

The Humane Society hopes that the following
estracts will be read and pondered, and that
they will touch the heart and make such an
appeal to the reader's bet'.,er nature that more
ready aid will be given to the Society to mitigate
the terrible evlla of "waif-life."

SPIRIT IN WHICH THIS WOR«C
Sr^OULD BE PROSECUTED.

And first, we should consider how this work
should be done, and in what spirit it should be
prosecuted. The following extracts '.om vari-
ous writers will piobably best illustrate the
spirit and character of the efforts w hich should
be made to accomplish this part of the work o*

the Humane Society, especially with the young
— the waifs and strays— which it is dcHirable
to reach and uplift. Tliey are preteraaturally
sceptical as to the genuineness of any professed
regard for them. They instinctively detect a
Pharisaic spirit, and, in their own blunt, sneer-
ing way, scornfully humor it, if it promises to
be of service to them. Amateur piiilanthro-
pists, with the best intentions, are apt to make
tliis fatal mistal.e, and in the end, and in conse-
quence of it, become discouraged and disheart-
ened. How necessary, then, is it that there
should be no mistakes in this matter! Unless
the duty is undertaken in tlie spirit of the fol-
lowing extracts it will not be successful. In
some of them the effects of such genuine, loving
efforts arc fcresha<lowed. How bounteous is
the rewar<l !

The fifth in the following scries was written
by "The Kahn," in the Toronto Tdcijram.

Lend a helping hanil, my brother.

To the weary ones we meet,
There are many bowed with burdens,

Fainting in the day's fierce heat.
Pass not by a toil-worn brother.

Let none ask for aid in vain.
Lend a helping hand, believing

Love will pay you back again.

Lend a helping hand, my brother.

There arc chances all the way ;
Vi'hen you see a man discouraged,

Have a helping word to say.
Kindly words are balm and comfort

To the weary, and they make
Many a heavy load seem lighter;

Sjjcak them for a brother's sake.

Ill the march of life, my brother.

Willing heart and ready hand
Make the way seem bright and pleasant

As we journey through the land.
Blest the hands outstretched to help us

With hopeful word and smile;
Lend a helping hand to others.

It is grandly worth your while.

"Call them in" — the poor, the wretched,
Sin-staii>ed wanderers from the fold;

Peace and pardon freely oft'jr ;
Can you weigh their worth with gold ?

"Call them in" — the broken-hearted,
Cowering 'neath the brand of shame ;

Speak Love's message low and tender —
'Twas for sinners Jesua came.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

See I the almdows lengthen round us,
Soon tlio diiy-ilawn will begin ;

Can you leave them lost and lonely ?
Christ is coining: "Cull them in."

III.

When you see a ragged urchin

Standing wistful on the street,
With torn hat and kneeless trouaeis,

Dirty face and bare red feet :
Pass not by the lad unheeding;

Smile on him. Mark me, when
He's grown he'll not forget it ;

For, remember, boys make men 1

IV.

On life's rugged road

As we journey each day,
Far, far more of sunshine

Would brighten the way,
If forgetful of self

And our troubles, we had
The will, and would try

To make other hearts glad.

A word kindly spoken,

A smile or a tear.
Though seeming but trifles,

Full often may cheer.

Each day to our li^'cs

Some treasures 'twould add,
To be conscious that we

Had made somebody glad.

Those M'ho sit in the darkness

Of sorrow, so drear.
Have need of a word

Of solace or cheer.
There arc homes that are desolate,

Hearts tiiat are 8a<l —
Do something for someone,

Make somebody glad.

If thy brother err.

Reprove him;
Whisper something kind,

To move him.
But if ho in the crooked way
Must in spite of all things stray.
And you the bitter words must say.

Say it softly.

Tliy brother may be weak,

But true ;
He may not be as strong

As you ;
Then careful watch and wary guide him.
And from the gaze of sneerers hide him.
And if your duty make you chide him.

Chide him softly.

VI.

How softly on the bruised heart,

A word of kindness falls.
And to the dry and parched soul

The moistening teardrop calls ;
Oh, if they knew who walk the earth

Mid sorrow, grief and pain,
The power a word of kindness hath,

'Twere paradise again 1

The weakest and the poorest may

This simple pittance give.
And •;id delight to withered hearts.

Return again and live.
Oh, what is I'fe if love be lost;

If man's unkind to man ?
Or what the heaven f-.hat v/aits beyond

This brief but mortal span ?

VII.

A single word is a little thing.

But a soul may be dying before our eyes
For lack of the comfort a word may bring.

With its welcome help and its sweet surprise.

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF WAIF-LIFE.

A kindly look costs nothing at all,

But a heart may ho starving for just one
glance
That shall show hy the eyelid's tender fall

The help of a pitying countenance.

It is easy enough to bend the ear
To catch some tale of sore distress ;

For men may be fainting beside us here,
For longing to share their weariness.

These gifts nor silver nor gold may buy,
Nor the wealth of the richest of men bestow ;

lint the comfort of word, or ear, or eye.
The poorest may offer wherever he go.

vin.

It was only a lu.)ssom.

Just the merest bit of bloom,
But it brought a glimpse of summer

To the little darkened room.

It was only a glad "good morning,"

As she passed along the way ;
But it spread the morning's glory

Over the livelong day.

Only a song; but the music,
Though simply pure and sweet,

Brought back to better pathways
The reckless, roving feet.

But straight to my heart it went speeding
To gild the clouds that were there,

And I found that of sunshine and life's blue skies
I also might take my share.

" Only ! " In our blind wisdom

How dare we say at all —
Since the ages alone can tell us —

Which is the great or small ?

IX.

Only a smile that was given me

On the crowded street one day I
Hut it pierced the gloom of my saddened heart

Like a sudden sunbeam's ray.
The shadow of doubt hung over me.

And the burden of pain I bore.
And the voice of Hope I could not hear,

Though I listened o'er and o'er.

But there came a rift in the crowd about.

And a face that I knew passed by,
And the smile I caught was brighter to me

Than the blue of a summer sky.
Tor it gave me back the sunshine.

And scattered each sombre thought,
A'ld my heart rejoiced in the kindling warmth

Which that kindly smile had wrought.

Only a smile from a friendly face

On the busy street that day !
Forgotten as soon as given, perhaps,

As the donor went her way.

I walked in the woodland meadows

Where sweet the thrushes sing.
And I found on a bed of mosses

A bird with a broken wing.
I healed the wound, and each morning

It sang its old sweet strain ;
But tile bird with a broken pinion

Never soared as high again.

I found a young life broken

By sin's seductive art.
And, touched with Christ-like pity,

I took him to my heart.
He lived with a noble purpose,

And struggled not in vair. ;
But the sold with a broken pinion

Never soars as high again.

A child's kiss
Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad ;
A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich ;
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee

strong.
Thoii shalt be served thyself by every sense
Of service which thou renderest.

XIL

Worship God by doing good;

Help the suffering in their needs.
He who loves God as he should
Makes his heart's love understood

By his deeds.

XIIL

Do good, and leave behind you a monument
of good deeds that time can never destroy.
Write your name In kindness, love and mercy
on the hearts of thousands you come in contact
with, and you will never be forgotten by them.
Your name, your deeds, will be legible on the
heorts you leave behind, as the stars on the
brow of the evening. Good deeds will shine as
the stars of heaven.

XIV.

I build my house ot loving deeds,
On Christ, the mighty corner-stone ;

And when for love my spirit bleeds,
I find a ruby chamber grown.

THE TORONTO HUMANP] SOCIETY.

I build iny house of tender cares;

My daily labors, great or small,
Aro puarly gates and golden staira

Into Messiah's banquet hall.

I build my house of silent tears

For human hearts with sorrow riven ;

In each a crystal pane aijpcars.
And makes a window into heaven.

"Only Remembered by What I have Done,"

" With ft lianil that in !dnd
And a heart that is true,
To malte others g1a<l
There is much we iimy do."

— Ar.an,

"She hath done what she could."— ^Mnrt xiv. 8.

How touchingly and how tenderly do the fol-
lowing 'inus express the feeling of an active yet
unobtrusive v.orker in the wide field of Chri.s-
tian philanthropy ! It is only in the hands of
such workciS, imbued with the spirit of the
toregoing verse, that success is possible. How
true it is that —

" Unless the Lord conduct the plan
The best concerted schemes are vain.
And never can succeed."

Up and away, like the dew of the morning,
Soaring from earth to its honia in tlio sun;

So let me steal away, gently and lovingly,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Up and away, like the odors of sunset.
That sweeten the twilight as darkness comes
on;

So be my life— a thing felt but not noticed.
And I but remembered by what I have done.

^'es, like the fragrance that wanders in fresii-
ness.
When the flowers that it came from are closed
up and gone ;
So would I be to this world's weary dwellers —
Only remembered by what I have done.

Needs there the praise of the love-written record.

The name and the epitaph graved on the stone?

The things we have lived for, let them be our

story.

We ourselves but remembered by what we

have done.

I need not be missed if another succeed me,
To reap down those fields which in spring 1
have sown.

He who ploughed and who sowed is not missed
by the reaper ;
He is only remembered by what ho has done.

So let my living be, so be my dying;

So let my name lie— unblazoned, unknown.
Unpraised and unmissed, I shall still be remem-
bered ;
Yes — but remembered by what I have done !

— Anon.

The Feeling of Responsibility in the Work.

The anonymous writers of the following lines
must have felt most keenly the grave responsi-
bility of the work before them, in the one case,
in guiding the "tiny feet" into the right way,
and in the other, rejoicing that, her work done,
the "little feet" of her precious charge were
safe within the Master's fold. The ])athos of
this secon<l writer, whose responsibility ceaseil
when she felt that the feet that she had giiiiled
could "never go astray," is very touching. It
is indeed an exquisite piece, full of a mother's
tenderest love and sympathy.

They are such tiny feet !
They have gone such a little way to meet
The years which are required to break
Their ste{)s to evenness, and make
Them go more sure and slow !

They are such little hands !

Be kind ! Things are so new and life liut

stands
A step beyond the doorway. All around
New day lias found

Sucli tempting things to shine upon, and so
The hands are tempted hard, you know.

They are such new, young lives !

Surely their newness shrives

Them well of nuiny sins. Tliey see so much

That (being immortal) they would touch,

Tiuit, if they reach.

We must not chide, but teach.

They are such fond, clear eyes !

That widen to surprise

At every turn ; they are so often held

To sun or showers (showers soon dispelled)

By looking in our face.

Love asks for such much grace.

They are such fair-fmil gifts,
Uncertain as the rifts
Of light that lie along the sky.
They may not bo here by-and-by ;

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF WAIF-LIFE.

Give them not love, but more above,
And harder,— patience with tlie lovo.

(iod blcsH the little feet that can never go

astray,
I'or the little shoos are empty, in the closet

laid away !
Sometimes I take one in my Imnd, forgetting,

till I Hce
It is a little half-worn sIkjc, not large enough

for me ;

And all at once I feel a sense of ijitter los^ and

pain.
As sharp as when some years ago it cut my

heart in twain.

<) little feet that wearied not, I wait for them

no more.
For I am drifting with the tide, but they have

reached the shore ;
And while these blinding tear-drops wot these

little shoos so old,
I put on them a value high above their price in

gold ;
And so I lay them down again, but always

turn to say —
(iod bless the little feet that now .so surely

cannot stray !

And while I thus am standing, I almost seem

to see
Two little forms beside me, just as they used

to be !
Two little foc'js lifted witli their sweet and

tender eyes !
Ah me ! I might h ive known that look was

l)orn of Paradise.
1 roach my arms out fondly, but thoy clasp the

empty air !
There is nothing of my darlings but the siioes

they used to wear.

Oh, the bitterness of parting cannot bo done

away
Till I see my darlings walking where the feet

can never stray ;
When I no more am drifted upon the surging'

tide,
But with them safely landed there upon the

river side ;
Bo patient, heart ! while waiting to see their

shining way.
For the little feet in the golden street can

never go astray !

The Society hopes that It will receive the cor-
dial help of the humane In proaecuting Its work.

The Neglected Opportunity to do Good.

The following lines of .Margarot '•' Sangstur
will bring forcibly to tlio minds of those who
fail to realize the duty and opportunities — so
constantly otlered to them—of "doing good."
the "bitter heartache" which follows from
such neglect : —

It isn't the thing you <lo, dear,

It's the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you a bit of heartache

At tlie sotting of the sun.
The tender word forg^ittc^n.

The letter you did not write,
The (lower you might have sent, dear.

Are your haunting ghosts to-night.

The stone you might have lifted

Out of a brother's way.
The bit of heartsome counsel,

You are hurried too much to say.
The loving touch of the hand, dear.

The gentle and winsome tone.
That you had no time nor thouglit foi-.

With troubles enough of your own.

These little acts of kindness,

So easily out of mind.
These chances to be angola.

Which even mortals find—
They come in night and silence.

Each dull, rei)roachful wraith.
When hope is faint and flagging.

And a blight has dropped on faith.

For life is all too short, dear.

And sorrow is all too great.
To suffer our slow compassion

That tarries until too late,
And it's not the th ng you do, dear,

It's the thing you leave undone.
Which gives you the bitter heartache

At the setting of the sun.

Things to be Taken into Account.

Even those who are active laborers in the
noble cause of rescuing and restoring others
should remember that there is, as is graphic-
ally told in the following lines, an "unseen
battlefield " in every heart, on which the . on-
llict for the right and true, against the wrong
and the false, is waged every day and every
hour of one's life : —

There is an unseen battlefield

In every human breast.
Where two opposing forces meet,

And where they seldom rest.

TIIK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIKTY.

Tho fiolil i8 veiled from mortal siglit ;

'Tis only seen by One,
Who knows alone where victory lies

Wliun each day's tigiit is dono.

Ono army clusters strong and fierce,

Their chief of demon form;
His hrow is like the tiiunder cloud,

His voice the liursting storm.

His captains, Pride and Lust and Hate,
\VlioH(! troops watched night and day.

Swift to detect the weakest point,
An<l thirsting for the fray.

(Contending with this mighty force

Is but a little band ;
Yet there, with an unyielding front,

These warriors firmly stand.

Their iciMler is of godlike form.

Of countenance nerene;
And, glowing on his naked breast,

A simple cross is seen.

His ca[)tain8, Faitii and Hope and Love,

Point to tlie wondrous sign,
And, gazing at it, all receive

Strengtii from a power divine.

They feel it speaks a glorious truth —

A truth as great as sure —
That, to be victors, they must learn

To love, confide, endure.

That faith sublime in wildest strife

Imparts a holy calm ;
In every deadly blow a siiield.

For every wound a balm.

And, when they win that battlefield,

Past toil is (|uite forgot;
The plain, wliore carnage once had reigned,

Becomes a hallowed spot —

A spot where flowers o." joy and peace

Spring from the fertile sod.
And breathe the perfume of their praise

On every breeze — to God.

— Anon.

Fatal Reinforcements on this Battlefield.

Let us also remember that, in addition to this
terrible enemy within, the careless taunt, the
sneering laugh, or tlie bitter word, may arouse
in the human heart a tempest of the darkest
])as8ions, which, if not allayed, may end in the
wreck of the human soul. Mrs, SchafTter, of
New Orleans, truly remarks on tliis subject: —

"It is not only the whij) that stings or the
knife that cuts. The scornful look of a woman
BO sure of her own foothold, stabs deeper than

a sword; the sneer of a fellow man may send
tlie drunkard reeling down and down ; while a
word unsaid may leave tlie dumb beast of bur-
den to many days of suffering. "

It is well known, too, that a sneer or a taunt
has turned many a one who was anxious to do
right, or to reform, out of the way of doing so,
never to return! How true are these lines: —

Ah, me ! those terrible tongues of ours !
Are we half aware of their mighty powers ?
Do wo ever trouble our h(;ads at all
Where the je.st may strike or the hint may fall ?
The latest chirp of that " little bir.l,"
That spicy story "you nuiat have heard " —
We jerk them away in our gossip rash,
And somebody's glass, of course, goes snuvsh.
What fames have been blasted and broken.

What pestilent sinks been stirred,
By a word in lightness spoken,

By only an idle word !

A sneer— a shrug — a whisper low—

They are poisoned siii.fts from an ambushed bow;

Shot by the cowaril, the fool, the knave.

They pierce the mail of the great and brave ;

Vain is the buckler of wisdom or pride

To turn the pitiless point aside.

The lip may curl with a careless smile.

But the heart drips blood -drips blood the while.

Ah, me ! what hearts have been broken.
What rivers of blood been stirred.

By a word in malice spoken,
By only a bitter word !

A kin<lly word and a tender tone —

To only God is their virtue known !

They can lift from the dust the object head.

They can turn a foe to a frien 1 instead.

The heart close-barred with passion and pride

Will fling at their knock its portals wide,

And the hate that blights and the scorn that

sears
Will melt in the fountain of childlike tears.
What ice-bound griefs have been broken,

What rivers of love been stirred,
By a word in kindness spoken.
By only a gentle word !

— A noil.

Just a few words, but they blinded
The brightness all out of a day ;

Just a few words, but they lifted
The shadows and cast them away.

Only a frown, but it dampened
The cheer of a dear little heart ;

Only a smile, but its sweetness
Check'd tears that were ready to start.

— Aiwn.

THK WAIFS AND STRAYS TELLING THEIR OWN STORY.

II. THE WAIFS AND STRAYS TELLING THEIR OWN STORY.

" Ah, iiic 1 wliuii the houni Ko Joyfully by,

How little we ijt<)|>|H-il to heoil
Uiir lirothera' and ninterii' <leii|iuirliii( cry

In their woe and hitter need.
Yet such a world as the liiiKels aouKht

Tills world of oiirD we'd enll.
If the hrotlierly love our Kather taught

Won felt by caeh for all."

Tlie truthful and touching jnvthos of these
Hiiii|ile stories of temptation, 8ullerin>{, and
sorrow, will, it is iioped, enkindle a true and
huarty desire to lend a helping hand to lift up
and cheer the counterpart, in Toronto and elso-
wlicre, of those wiio tell these sad talcs, re-
ijicnihering that

" Kroni rankest Hoil
There often gro.vs a iuunaii llower both sweet
and bright."

Song of a Toronto Newsboy.

The following touchii.g verses were sung by
Tommy Wiiitc, a Toronto newsboy, at an enter-
tiiinment given to the newsboys of tho city : —

We live in a hut on a vacant lot,

My father, my mother, and I ;
' I'is away out of town in a dreary spot,

With a headstone (juarry close by.
My father is lazy, and my mother she drinks,

And I am ra^'ged and tiiin,
I look like a, thief, for 'tis hard to be pure,

When circled around by sin.

A terrible place is this vacant lot,

A region of famine and woe ;
The neighbors found a strangled child

In the (juarry not long ago.
My father is sometimes out all day.

And comes staggering home at night
With money and things that he hides away,

For he never conies by them right.

.And mother is always at me to steal,

And urges her plea with a curse ;
She bids me sneak through the city crowd

And pocket a watch or a purse.
My father he beata me when I say

I'd rather at any time die
Than steal or rob, for I never will.

And I'll tell you the reason why :

'i'here came to our hovel three years ago
A man with a mild, meek face ;

He held a Holy Book in his hand.
And tried to read me a place.

But mother swore at that mild-faced man,
And drove him away from our door.

And tolil him never as long as ho lived
Again to darken our door.

But something made me fellow that man —

I think that he beckoned to mo —
He led ine down to the ([uarry's |)laco

That none of our people might see ;
He read me tilings from tliat Holy Hook

That I never ha<l heard liefore.
And 8oi'";how a peace came over my heart

And it didn't feel half so sore.

They may curse and beat me as long as they
please.

For I know what they don't know —
1 know these things in tho end come right

For tliose who sulFer below.
No matter how dirty and ragged I am.

With no one to like or to love,
I know there's a vacant lot for ■ iie

In that beautiful world above.

Alone in the Big City.

I don't know what we'll do, Jim ; the rain's a
coming fast,

I haven't got no money, and its twelve o'clock
and past ;

Let's sit down in a doorway, the first as we can
see.

We can may be get to sleep there, if the "cop-
per " let us be.

Here, come a little closer, Jim, you're youngest,

d'ye see,
And the rain won't get so near you if you shelter

behind me;
Put the matches in that corner, lad, and then

tliey won't get wet,
There niiglit he some cove come along as wants

to buy one yet.

Does the rain come nigh you there, Jim ? It

doesn't? That's all right.
I wish we had a crust of bread to eat this cold,

wet night ;

THK TORONTO HUMANK SOCIKTl.

I iloii't care inucli ulxmt iiiyHolf, l>iit I immt kcop Ami li(>anl '«m «iii)<ing, luiil »ttW folkn all drosscd

you ttlivo, i„ H„„wy white.

Aiid if I eaii gn witiiout at ton, you can't at only

live. '^" y" fool the cold a, deal, Jim ? your hnnda

are juHt like load,

D'ye »od that star up there, Jim, a shining in And ntil! -wiiy Jiinl poor little Jim -ah, what !

tl"'Ml«y? -ho isn't dead?

I wonder whit the people dooa M Uvea up there Oh, Jim, it can't hu!— nay, he's gone— JiniM

«" *''«'»• seun his last wet day,

ALONE IN THE BIO CITY

D'ye think our mother went up there to live

inside a star ?
I wish we uould go, too, lad, but it looks so far.

I "m afraid we'll not get there, Jim ; but there,

•.ve scarcely know !
Tom, who lived in the court near by, died not

very long ago.
And he said, when he was dying, that he saw a

place all light.

And his soul's gone flying upward to the stai
light far away.

— The Quiver.

Little Ned and Me.

All tliat is like a dream. It don't seem true !
Father was gone, and mother left, you see,
To work for little Ned and m ■

And up among the gloomy < . .-j we grew

Locked in full oft, lest we should wander out,

THi: WAIFS AND STRAYS TELLING THEIR OWN iSTORY.

With iKithiiiK hut a oruMt o* l>roail to oat,
Wliilo iiiothor cliiiii'uil for poiii folk roiiiul iihout,
Ur Mold chuap odiU ami eniU from itroet to

•trooc,
Yet, I'arsoii, there was pluusiiru frmh nnd (iiir,
'J'o iiiakti tlio tiiiii! paiM happily up tluii'u—
A Ht(:aiiilM)at going pant upon tlui tiilu,
A pigeon ligiiting on tliu roof cloHe by,
Tiui HparniWM tuaoliiiig liUlu oul-h to tly,
'I'hi' Hinall wliite moving cIouiIh tiuit wu uftpicil,
Anil tlion;,'iit wt;ro living in tlic l>it of sky
Witii sigiita like tiiem! right glail wuru Neil

and L
And then we loved to moo tlie Hoft rain calling,
Pattering, pattering upon the tilcH;
And it was tino tu see the Rtill snow foiling.
Making the hoUMetop^ white for niileB and miles.
And oateh it in our little hands in [day.
And laugh to feel it nutit and slip ivway I
But I was Mix, and Ned was only three,
And thinner, weaker, wearier than moj
Aiul one eold day, in winter time, when mother
Had gone away into the snow, and we
Hat elose for warmth, and euddled otio another,
He put his little head upon my knee
And went to sleep, and would not stir a lind),
r.ut looked (|uite strange and old.
And when I shook him, kissed him, spoke to

him,
He smiled, and grew so cold.
Then I was frightened, and eried out. and none
Could hear me; while I sat and nursed his head,
Watching the whitened window, wliile the sun
I'eeped in upon his face and made it red;
And I liegan to sob — till mother came,
Knelt down, and screamed, and named the gojd

God's name,
And told me he was dead !
And when she put his night-gown on, and weep-

iwg.

Placed him among the rags upon his bed,

1 thought that brotliur Ned was only sleeping.

And took his liUle hand and felt no fear.

l)Ut when the place grew gray, and cold, and
drear.

And the round moon over the roofs came creep-
ing,

And put a silver shade

All round the chilly bed whore he was laid,

I cried, and was afraid.

— Robert Buchanan.

An Orange for Little Brother Bill.

Please buy some cress, a penny just;

You'll like 'cm if yon will ;
Then I can l)uy an orange, sir,

For little brother IJill.

You see, we're all alono, now, sir,

For fatluir's gone away,
And mother, HJie's in heaven, sir —

Least so the folks all miy.

And Itill, hu seems mo tired like now,

His lips HO hot and dry ;
And if you'd see 'em hands of his,

'T Would make you almost cry.

And when I left this mornin', sir,
He looked so tired ond white,

I vowed I'd get an orange, sir.
If for it I'd to light.

They cost a big live cents, you see

I'd like to get him two;
I've never made a cent to-dny,

I don't know what I'll do.

It knocks mo all to pieces, sir.

To see him lyin' there,
His eyes, like mother's, big and bright;

But, oh ! BO damp his hair.

It's time I'll bean to see him now,

I'm sure he'll feel real bad.
For when I left this nioridn', 'decil,

A crust was all he had.

I gathered these this mornin', sir,
They're nice mid fresh, you sec;

I covered them with this wet moss,
And stood beneath this tree.

Youll take them all ? Oh, thank you, sir;

How lUlly's eyes will shine!
'1 hem oranges will be more to him

Than any big gold mine.

t-ome home with me ? Yes, if you like ;

There ain't much, tliough, to see —
A broken c'lair and little bed;

It just holds Bill and ine.

We use the chair as table, and

The bed is good enough ;
For stanilin' round like this, you knov.-.

It makes a fellow tough.

Just wait a moment, I'll be back ;

They sell the oranges there.
My ! won't they be a jolly treat

To spread on Billy's chair.

Yes, this is where we live, sir; wait,

I guess I'll go ahead;
I've always got to lift Bill up.

And let him sit in bod.

He's gone asleep, I know he's tired.
" Here, Bill, wake up and see !"

-i

100

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

I'm 'fraid he's pretty sound this time.
" Bill 1 Bill ! it's time for tea ' "

T!ie stranger moved the lad aside,

And o'er wee Billy bent ;
He folded down tho wasted hands,

And smoothed the curlb unkempt.

Then turned to Ilia companion small,
Whilst tears stood in his eyes —

" Wee Bill will never wake, my lad:
F i gone above the skies."

The boy gazed at the silent form.
His eyes with ai.^uish wilil,

Then with a great lieartrending cry
Sank down beside tl.e child.

The stranger took him to his home,
And o'er him watched with care ;

But all in vain, his heart still ached —
Wee Billy was not there.

And .low they're lying side by f 'ie
Within the cliurchyard gates ;

And one there is who pauses there.
And muses as he v/aits.

And fancies, as he silent stands,

Thr.t he can hear him still :
" Please buy, then I can get an orange

For little brother Bill."

The Old Man "Wrapped lip in Jim."

Jld man nevtr had i.iuch to say,

'Cfjptin' to .Jim, —
Anil Jim was the wildest boy he had —

-lud the old man jes' wrapped up in him !
Never heerd him speak but once
Er twice in my life,— and first time was
When the war broke out, and Jim he went.
The old mai> backin' him, fer threo months,—
And all 'at I heerd the old man say
Was, jea' as we turned to start away, —

" Well ; good bye. Jinx :

Take keer of yourse'f ! "

Never was nothin' about the farm

Disling'islied Jim ; —
Neighbors all ust to wonder v/hy

The old man 'peared wrap^ied up in him :
!>ut when Cap. Biggler, he writ back
'A^. Jim was the bravest boy we had

And his fightin' good as his farmin' bad —
'At he had led, with a bullet clean
Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag
Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen, —

The old man wound up a letter to hini
'At Cap. read to us, 'at said, — "Tell Jim
Good-bye ;

And take kee- of hissuf."

Tuk the papers, the old man did,

A-.vatchin' fer Jim —
Fully believin' he'd make his mark

Some way— jes' wrapped up in him I
And many a time the v.'ord 'u'd come
'At stirred him up like the tap li a drum —
At Petersburg, for instance, wh re
Jim rid right into their cannons there.
And tuk 'pm, and p'inted 'em t' other way
And socked it home to the boys in gray,
Aa they skooted fer timber, and on and on —
Jim a lieatjnant and one arm gone,
And the old man's words in his mind all day, —

" Well ; good-bye, Jim :

Take keer of yourse'f 1 "

Think of a private, now, perhaps,

We'll say like Jim,
'At's dumb clean up to the shoulder straps —

And the old man jes' wrapped up in him !
T'link of him— with the war plum' through,
And the glorious old Red- White-and- Blue
i^.-laughin' the news down over Jim
And the old man bendin' over him —
The surgeon turnin' awa; with tears
'At had n't leaked fer years and years —
As the hand of the dyin' boy clung to
His father's, the old voice in his ears, —

" Well ; good-bye, Jim :

May God take keer of you !"
— James Whilcomb Riley, in the Century.

" I'll Help You Across if You Wish to Go."

The woman was old and ragged ard gray.
And ber t with the chill of a winter's day ;
The streets were white with a winter's sncw,
And the woman's feet with age were slow.

None offered a helping hand to her.

So \> jak and timid, afraid to stir,

Lest the carriage wheels or the horse's feet

Should trample her down in the slippery street.

At last came out of a merry troop

The gayest boy of all th^ group;

He paused beside her and wliispered low,
" I'll help you across if you wish to go." —

" Somebody's mothe.'" bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was — " (lod be kind to that noble boy
Who is somebody's son, and pride, and jov,"

1 HE WAIFS AND STRAYS TELLING THEIR OWN STORY.

101

day,-

ipa—
im !

ugh.
;ie

entury.
1 Go."

new,

et
street.

!ad
16 said

JV."

FNwers for Poor Little Joe.

Prop yer ey^s wide open, Joey,

For I've brought you sunipin' great.
Apples ? No, a loi.g sight bettor !

Don't you take no int'rest ? Wait !
Flouers, Joe —I knoweil you'd like 'em —

Ain't them scrumptious ? Ain't them high '
Tears, T.y boy ? What's ',hem fur, Joey ?

There — poor little Joe ! don't cry 1

I was skippin' past a winder,

Wiiere a bang-up lady sot
All amongst a lot of bushes —

Each one climbin' from a pot :
Every bush had flowers on it—

Pretty? Mebbenot! Oh, no!
Wisii you could have seen 'em growin',

It was such a 'tunnia' show.

Well. I thought of you, poor feller,

Lyin' here so sick an' weak ■;
Never knowin' any comiort.

An' I pu s on a lot o' cheek.
" Missus," says I, " If you please, mum,

Could I ax you for a rose ?
For my little brother, missus,

Never seed one, I suppose. "

Then I told her all about you —

How I bringed you up— poor Joe
(Lackin' women folks to do i^),

Such an imp you was, you know —
Till yer got that awful tun;ble,

Jist as I had broke yer in
(Hard work, too) to earn yer 'ivin'

Blackiii' boots for honest tin.

How that tumble crippled of you,

So's you couldn't hyper nnich —
Joe, it hurted when I seen you

Fur the first time with your crutch.
" But," I says, "he's laid up now, mum,

'Pears to weaken every day. "
Joe, she up an' went to cuttin',

That's the hew o' this bokay.

Say ! it seems to me, ole feller,

You is quite yerself to-night ;
Kind o' chirk, it's been a fortiiit

Since yer eyes has been so bright.
Better ? Well I'm glad to hear it !

Yes, they're mighty pictty, Joe ;
Smellia' of 'em's made you happy ?

Well, I thought it would, yr^u know.

Never seen the country, did you ?

Flowers growin' everywhere 1
Sometime when yer better, Joey,

Mebbe I kin take you there.

Flowers in heaven ! 'M — I s'pose so ;

Don't know much about it, though ;
Ain't as fly as what I might be

On them topics, little Joe.

But I've heard it hinted somowher's

That in heaven's golden gates
Things is everlasting cheerful —

B'lieve that's what the Bible states.
Likewise, there folks don't get hungry ;

So good people, when they dies.
Find themselves well fixed forever —

Joe, my boy, wot ails yer eyes ?

Thought they looked a little sing'ler,

Oh, no ? Don't you have no fear ;
Heaven was made fur such as you is !

Joe, wot makes you look so queer ?
Here, wake up : Oh, don't look that way,

Joe, my boy ! Hold up your head !
Here's your flowers, you dropped 'em, Joey I

Oh ! can it be, can Joe be deai' ?

— Pdeg A rkwright.

Our Little Tim, Alas, for Him I

Our little Tim
Was such a limb
His mother scarce
Could manage him.
His eyes were blue.
And locked you through.
And seemed to say,
"I'll have my way 1"
His age was six.
His saucy tricks
'But made you sinile,
Though all the while
You said, " You limb,
You wicked Tim,

Be quiet, do !"

Poor little Tim !

Our eyes are dim

When soft and low

We speak of him.

No clatt'rir.g shoe

Goes running throug'u

The silent room,

Now wrapped in gloom.

So still he lies.

With fast shut eyes,

No need to say,

Alas! today ' "'~

" You little limb,

You baby Tim,

Be quiet, do!"
,, — Oeorg" R. Sims,

102

THE TOIIONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

III. THE WAIFS AND STRAYS-OTHERS TELLING

THEIR STORY.

" I think that this world vould not be half as bri^'ht,

In fact it would be rath r drear,
II, aa we passed throu);h it, we never could And

Some poor soul to he good to, my dcu/,

Some poor soul to be cood to, my dear.

Is a blessing- of blessings, that's clear ;
For to keep the heart warm there is nothing excels

^onio poor soul to be good to, my dear.

" Though the paths that we tread may be fragrant with flowers,
'Ncatli a sky where no shadows appear,
'Twill add to our joy if we've alwa,\ s in mind
Some poor soul to be good to, my dear.
Some poor soul to be good too, my dear,
Yes, even if sorrown come near.
Less heavy they'll grow just as long as we know
Some poor so.il to be good to, my dear."

— Margaret Eytingc, in Harptr't Bazar.

Although many of these stories arc told in
the vcniaoular of the class which they repre-
sent, yet they are, as a rule, founded on inci-
dents and facts which came under the personal
notice of the writers — some of whom are well
known in literature. The likeness of these
typical originals to those in most cities, and
the general truthfulness na to the details given,
will be at once recognized by such of our read-
ers a? have hud any of the sad experiences of
life among the waifs and strays and the desti-
tute ones in large cities, as related here in these
stories.

These pieces are inserted in this publication
with the strong hope that the subjects of the
stories, represented as they are by numbers in
our largest cities, and by many in Toronto, will
awaken a deeper and more abiding interest in
the fate and well-being of such waifs and strays.

It may be objected, and with some reason,
that the types, or little heroes, of these stories,
are much better and more interesting thr.n their
onlinary representatives, as found in our cities.
This may be true in some, but by no means in
all, eases. An off-hand conclusion is often ar-
rived at as the resu.'t of a superficial know-
ledge of the subject, or perhaps from a per-
sonal contact with our waifs and strays which
is neither close nor loving. Such an experi-
ence is of no practical value ; and such a con-

tact with our waifs and strays does positive
harm to both parties.

But it should never be forgotten, or over-
lf>oked, that in every human heart, however
much the man, woman or child may be down-
trodden or debased, there is a hidden, tender,
sensitive spot, which can only be reached, aa is
well known, in one v. ay — that is, by tender
sympathy or "joint-burden-bearing," and lov-
ing-kindneus — it may be, oft-repeated loving-
kindness. Remember, as Ella Wheeler Wilcox
says, that —

There lies in the centre of each man's heart
A longing and love for the good and pure,

And If but an atom, or larger part,
I tell you this shall endure —endure

After the body has gone to decay —

Yea, after the world has passed away.

The longer I live tlie more I see

Of the struggle of souls to the heights above.
The stronger this truth comes home to me.

That the universe rests on the shoulders of
Love —
A love so limitless, deep and broad
That men have renamed it and called it God.

And nothing that ever was born or evolved.
Nothing created by light or force,

But deep in its system there lies dissolved
A shining drop from the great Love Source—

A shining drop that shall live for aye

Tho' kingdoms may perish and stars may die.

THE WAIFS AND STRAYS,- OTHERS TELLING THEIR STORY,
''he New Kingdom Called "Home."

103

Ho must have all the caro we can possiV)ly give,

Ami it iniy he the i)o;)r little fellow will live."
Two little frieniUess children, comrubs for

more than a year. But alas for poor Willie ! he had no nice homo ;

One sold floweis on a door step, one swept a jje lived in an alley, in one little room;

crossin;^ near ; And his poor mother, working from earliest
lie was a curly -iieaded laddie, brimful of light,

laughter and fun, Had often no supper to give him at night.
She was a staid little lassie, her hair kissed

gold by the sun. Rut joy for poor Willie ! for not far away

And when the lights of the city, told that the From the place wliere all bleeding and shat-

night had come, tered he lay,

She would tell him a wonderful story. Is a very large house standing back from the
She liad heard of a kingdom called Home : street.

With everything round it so quiet and neat,

Uoscs that cost not a penny, grew in a garden Which many good people had built in His luuiie

fair. Who healed all the sick when, from heaven He
Lilies tnat never faded, blossomed in winter came ;

there ; And who promises blessings that ever endure

Over a golden threshold, children were always To those who shall comfort the sick antl the poor.

at play,

Nobo<ly sang for money, so nobody sent them So there, in a room, large, and cheerful, and

away. bright.

And when she had finished her story, she Little Willie was laid on a pillow so w bite.

wished that a stranger would come The walls with bright pictures were covc-ei! all

o er ;

Will never had seen such a clean place before.

Long rows of small beds, with small tables be-
tween.

The coverlids whito, and the beds paint d
green ;

And so many children, all sick but so bright,

And show them tiie beautiful pathway.
That leads to the kingdom called Home. —

One night when the snow was falling, he came

for the old sweet tale,
IJut lier voice began to falter, her face grew

wan and pal ,

One kiss on the gold-crowned forehead, and he Will almost forgot his great pain at the sight,
knew the stranger had come

To show her the beautiful pathway, But the poor litt'e boy sufTered terrible pain

That leads to the kingdom cn!le<l Home. W^hen the good surgeon came to examine again

Those poor little limbs ; and he said that next

"I'll Hold Up My Hand so Jesus Can See." '^^^

He i.iUst bring his sharp knife and cut both

A great crowd of people had gathered around legs away.

A small ragged urchin stretciied out on the Oh, how could he bear it? Oh, what should he

ground do ?

Tn the midst of the street ; and some cried " For So small and alone, he could never get through.

shame i" And then he knew well that he never could run

And others, " Can any one tell us his name?" And play with the boys as before he had done.

For that poor little body, now bleeding and Poor Willie ! he felt that, in all that great city,

still, There was no one to help him and no one to
Was all that was left of once bright little Will. ?•*>'•

A great heavy cart had come rattling that way. It was night: in the hospital ward .ill was still,

Where Willie and others were busy at play. Save the low moans of anguish from poor little
And the poor little fellow, now stretched on VVill,

the stones. When a dear little girl in the very next bed

Seemed only a mass of bruised flesh and crushed Turned round on her pillow and lovingly said :

bones. " Ditile boy, what's the matter? are you very
IJut still there was "fe ; and a kind doctor said, ill ?"

" We must take the child home and put him to "Oh yes," said poor Willie; "and what is

bed ; worse still.

lot

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

The doctor is going to hurt my leg so
To-morrow ; I never can bear it, I know."
" Hilt Jesua will help you," aaid dear little Sue;
"He sull'ured and died, you kno\v', Willie, for

you."
The child was astonished, and thus made reply :
" Wljy, Susie, who's Jesus, and what made

Him die?"
"Oil, Willie, how sad! 1 thought every one

knew,
"You don't go to Sunday-school; isn't that

true?"
" No; I never have been," the boy made reply;
" But tell me of Jesus, and what made Him

die?"

"Well, Jesus," said Susie, "came down long

ago,
Hecause He was sorry we all suffered so,
And would be so nauglity. And He was a

child,
Just as little as we, but so gentle and mild.
And when He grew up Ho went all through the

land.
And healed all the sick with a touch of His

hand ;
And Ho took little children right up on His

knee —
Oh, Willie, I wish it had been you and me !

Hut some cruel men caught Jesus one day.
And beat Him, and mocked Him, and took Him

away,
An<l nailed Him with nails to a groat cross of

wood :
Oh, wasn't it hard, when He'd done them such

good ?
How He must have loved us to die on the tree !"
" But," said Will, " if He's dead, how can He

help me?"

" Why, I'll tell you," said Susie, " though now

He's in heaven.
In the Book He has left us a promise is given
That whene'er we want Him He'll come to our

aid.
I'm so sure He loves me I'm never afraid. . . .
"Oh, how good;" said the boy, with a long,

thankful sigh,
' ' But I n m so small that He might pass me by ;
So I'll hold up my hand that Jesus may see,
Then He'll know that I want Him, and come

right to me."

When the bright sun peeped in on that little

white bed,
The haad was still raised, but dear Willie was

dead!

The sad look of pain had gone from his face,
And the sweetest of snnlcs had taken its place;
For far-off in heaven, that beautiful land.
Kind Jesus had seen little Will's lifted hand;
The smile on his face shows his aiuii were for-
given,
And he waked in the morning w'th Jesua in
heaven.

—M. L. V. W.

"She Covered Him Over, Dear Lost Will. "

She covered him over, her five-year old,

" He will never know poverty more," she

said.
As she petted the curia of his boyish head ;

" No feet '11 be bare in the winter cold ;

" No crying for bread, no wearisome hours
Of labor ill-paid, from sun to sun ;
No murmuring oft when the work is done ;

Shut up from the sun and the birds and flowers,

" From the rich and the lofty, no look of pride ;
There '11 be time to study and to grow
In the beautiful gardens the angels know ;

It is well, it is well, that my boy has died.

She covered him over, her five-year old,
" He is safe, he is safe," she sadly said.
As she platted the folds of his narrow bed.

And kissed the cheek that was white and cold.

" Miss G— , I'm so Glad to See You."

Several years ago I was visiting some poor
people, when I felt unexpectedly directed to go
into a certain court. I did not know why ; I
had never been there before, and I knew no one
living there. However, the impression of duty
was too strong to be resisted, so I went up the
narrow passage which led to this co\irt. A
high dead wall surrounded the court. I walked
on to a few broken steps leading to a door.
I went up the steps, and knocked. As no one
came, I lifted the latch, but the door was
locked ! I did not feel at all inclined to go
away, being persuaded that (lod had sent mo
thore for some loving purpose. I stood irreso-
lute on the steps, and then began to search for
a key After awhile I found one hidden under
a stone; and I took it and opened the door.
I advanced into the room, at the farther end
of which, on a miserable bed, lay a little child
extremely ill. Its face was swollen and dis-
figured by dropsy, and the look of suffering,
even in slumber, was m jst touching.

This little sufferer slept ! His pains, his
wrongs, were all forgotten ; for he was asleep.

Istfi

(lore
In a
at 1)1
of jo
and

I wi

Till!: WAIFS AND STKAYS.-OTHP^RS TELLING THKIR STORY.

105

I stoful anil contcinplatoil tlic child, ami won-
ili'i't'd will) lit was anil wliy I was sent to him.
Ill a fow inin\itcs ho opened his eyes, and looked
at ine; tlieu came a ghmce of recognition and
of joy; then lie stietcliod out ills wasted liand,
and said, Imt in feeble ti^iies:

"Oh, Miss (! , I'm glad to see yon. 1

axed motlier to come 'for you ever so many
times, hut she never would come."
" What did you want to see me for?"
" Oil, I wanted to hear more about Jesus, and
I wanto i you to sing

" ' There is a happy lan<l.' "

"More abou Jesus!" Then had
tiiis little one known the Saviour?
Yes; in the workhouse school we had
met many times to talk about the way
to heaven. His mother — a wicked,
drunken woman — had taken him out
and led him from door to door to beg,
hoping his small size and pallid ap-
pearance might induce the thought-
less to give her money, which she
would spend in drink ! The child
grew sick, and became at last too ill
to bo dragged up and down the town.
Kis wretched mother then locked him
iiji for hours, while she sought money
u itii which to gratify her fatal appe-
tite!

Poor little fellow! And was he
miite forsaken ? No, not even a spar-
row " falletii to the ground without
your Father," — then surely a child
could not be forgotten. "Prayer is
tlie burden of a sigh," and the sigh of
tliis little one had been heard and
answered. He .awoke, and found a
friend whom God had sent him. . . .

In a day or two this little beggar-
boy passed away to the pearly gates
of the New Jerusalem, — where he
sliall hunger no more, neither thirst
any more, neither shall the sun light
mi him, nor any heat; for tlie Lamb, wliich is in
the midst of the throne, shall feed liim, and
shall lead him unto living fountains of water,
iiud ( !od shall wipe away all tears from his
eyes. — Faithful Records by a Lady.

Poor Brother Jack and Brother Jim.

Ho was a little beggar-boy, a child not twelve

years old,
With sunken cheeks, and eyes of blue, and hair

of faded gold,
8

And thus he did accost me, as I w-.ndered down

the street,
" 0, pleaBc, sir, give me summat, for to get a

l)ite to cat."

He had iiut scanty clothing on, his breeches

bad Ik tear ;
He had no liat, he li.id no boots, his little feet

were liare ;
.■\nd when he asked for help in need, I answereil

with a frown,

■W'

a^^^F^'

-^-^1^-lff ^ ^^^^— ^H

'Go, get away, yon little cur, you nomad of
the town !"

I am a tender-hearted man — at least I think I

am —
As pitiful as woma,. and as quiet as a Iamb,
And if there is a thing that I ilihor, it is to bring
A grief to any mortal man, or child, or creeping

thing.

That little boy, he wept and wailed, until his
sobs o'ercanie

106

THE TORONTO HUMANK SOCIETY.

A^Jiif

My clearer judgment, and I said, "Cheer up, " A waggon run'd him over, and— the— doctor-

my lad, for lihaine! says— he'll— die."
Dry up the torrent of your tears, and be a

little man.

And tell me all your troubles, and I'll help you "^'"'^ y°» ""^ ^"^ ''" '>""««* l'*'*'"* ""^y ^e^*

if I can." ' "

beneath
A ragged coat— or none.

He told mo all his story, and of how his father
drank.

And of how, through sad ill-usage, his noble
mother sank ;

And that now they'd left their father, his bro-
ther Jim and he,

And lived alone, "and now," he said, "you've
got it all, you see."

His grammar wasn't quite the thing, his words

were very wild.
But yet I took a liking to that humble, starving

child.

For he who, spite of deadly hurt, or spite of

temptings dire.
Still holds to sterling honesty through want's

afflicting fire —
Though poor and bitter be his lot, though

lowly be his name —
Is still the God-made gentleman that puts the

knave to shame.

—F. M. D.
Toronto.

The Little White Hearse.

So from my pocket then I took an English sover- ^s the little white hearse went glimmering by-

eign bright, jj^g ^^^ ^^^ ^1,^ goal-cart jerked his lines

Betwixt my finger and my thumb I held it to ^„j ^^^^^^^^ t^e lid of either eye.

And turned and stared at the business signs ;
And the street car driver stopped and beat
His han<l8 on his shoulders and gazed up street
Till his eyes on the long track reached the sky —
As the little white hearse went glimmering by.

As the little white hearse went glimmering
by-

A stranger petted a ragged child
In a crowded walk, and she knew not why,

But he gave her a coin for the way she
smiled ;
And a bootblack thrilled with a pleasure strange
As a customer gave him back his change
With a kindly hand and a grateful sigh —
As the little white bearse went glimmering by

the light.

" I am not rich, my little man, except in ruddy
health.

This coin I hold within my hand is all I have
of wealth ;

Now, if I give you this to change, you will not
use me ill,

But bring me back the change again?" He-
said, "You bet! I will."

He took the coin and vanished, and I waited

on and on.
Until at last the day began a dusky garb to

don;
And bitterly did I regret the being "done so

brown " —
Deceived through simple cunning by a nomad ^s the little white hearse went glimmering

of the town. jjy

, , , , . , T , , A man looked out of a window dim.

At length from out the eatherini; moom I heard .ii. ,, ^i^,.,

° . , , ° " ° And his checks were wet, but his heart was

a voice that spoke— ,

A youthful voice, a weakly voice, "Oh, sir, be -kt i. i i i -i i i i u- ■

•' ■' Not a deati child even were dear to him !

•' , , . , , , T . „ , -And he thought of his empty life, and said :

As give that 'skiv to brother Jack? —the ,,-, , ,. i i i i j

* " Loveless ahve, and loveless dead —

youth was very sum xt -r i -i i • ^i i m

•' , ., , , T, , . No wife nor child in earth or sky !

And very young — " for if you be, why, I m his . ., ,.,,, i -4. u i. r • i

■' •' ° •' ' ." As the little white hearse went ghmmermg by

brother Jim. -

— Anon.

"I've brought you back the money, sir," Bo said .. . , .. . .„

the little eif. " I'm Nobody's Child, I "Spose."

" For brotiicr Jiick he's badly hurt and couldn't Only a newsboy, under the light

come hissclf. Of the lamp-post plying his trade in vain ;

A waggon run'd him over, sir " — he here began Men are too busy to stop to-uight,

to cry — Hurrying home through the sleet and rain.

THE WAIFS AND STRAYS,- OTHKRS TELLING THEIR STORY.

107

Never since >lark a paper solJ ;

Where shall he sleep, or how he fed?
lie thinks as ho shivers there in tlie eold,

While happy children are safe abed.

Is it strange if he turns about

With angry words, then comes to blows.
When his little neighbor, just sold out,

Tossing his pennies, past him goes ?
"Stop" — some one looks at him sweet and
niihl.

And the voice that speaks is a tender one;
" \'ou should not strike such a little child,

And you should not use such words, my
son ! "

Is it his anger, or his fears

That has hushed his voice and staid his arm?
** Don't tremble," these are the words he hears;

" Do you think that I would do you harm ? "
"It isn't that," and the hand drops down ;

" I wouldn't care for kicks and blows ;
But nobody ever called me son.

Because I'm nobody's child, I 'spose !"

0, men ! as ye carelessly pass along.

Remember the love that has cared for you ;
And blush for the awful shame and wrong

Of a world where such a thing was true !
Think what the child at your knee had been

If thus on life's lonely billow tossed ;
And who shall bear the weight of the sin,

If one of those " little ones " be lost ?

—Phahe Gary.

" Nobody's Boy ? Yes, a Sinner's, No
Doubt."

"The wrongs of man to man Init make
The love of God more plain,
As through the shadowy lens of even
The eye looks farthest into hea\ en
On gleam of star and deptlis of b'lie
The glaring sunshine never knew."

~J a. Whillicr.

Y'es, he is dirty and ragged and poor,

Velvet and satin must shrink from his touch.
Thrust him away ere he reaches the door

Of your fine carriage ere his fingers would
smutch.
Yet there are two sides in all things, my friend;

Pity should quicken where sin would de-
stroy ;
Wretched, and going to wrotcheder and.

This wicked gamin is nobody's boy.

Nobody's boy ? Yes, a sinnei's, no doubt ;
Born to a heritage only of shame,

He, and his mother despiar ' and cast out,
That no dishonor may sully a name.

Say she is dead, and her child is a waif,

Swept by the wind at society's feet ;
Ye who have chihlren all sheltered and safe.

Is it a question endjodicd you meet?
Does the face haunt you ? \Vhy, what can you
do

To banish from pleasure this grain of alloy ?
What if God stooped to the sharing with you

Of His great thoughts toward nobody's boy?

— Anon.

The Dead Tramp, and a Tiny Shoe.

They found him by the roadside dead,

A ragged tramp unknown ;
His face upturned in mute despair.

His helpless crms outhrown.
The lark above him sang a song

Of greeting to the day,
The breeze blew fresh and sweet and stirred

His hair in wanton play.

They found no clue to home or name,

But tied with a ribbon blue
They found a package, and it held

A baby's tiny shoe.
Half worn and old, a button off.

It seemed a sacred thing ;
With reverence they wrapt it close

And tied the faded string.

They laid it on the peaceful breast

That kept the secret well ;
And God will know and understand

The story it will tell.
Of happy times and peaceful home

That dead tramp sometime knew,
Whose only relic left him was

The baby's tiny shoe !

—N. Y. World.

Found Dead and Alone I

Found dead — dead and alone.

There was nobody near, nobody near
When the outcast died on his pillow of stone I

No mother, no brotlier, no sister dear,
Nor a friendly voice to soothe or cheer ;

Nor a watching eye or a pitying tear.
Found dead — dead and alone,

In the roofless street, on a pillow of stone.

Many a weary day went by —
While wretched and worn he begged for
bread,

108

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIKTY.

1:-

Tircil of lif(! and longinj^ t» li(;

I'cacufully down witli tlio HJlunt dciid.
Hunger and cold and scorn and pain,

(fad waHted IiIh form and Hcarcd his brain,
Till at lawt on tlio lifd of frozun grounil,

Witli a pillow of 8tonu was the ontcaat found 1

Found dead — dead and alono,

On a pillow of stono in a roofless street —
Nohody heard hi» last faint moan,

Or knew when his sad heart ceased to beat ;
No inurnuir lingered with tears or sighs,

Hut the stars looked down with pitying eyes,
And the chill winds passed with a wailing
sound

O'er the lonidy spot where his form was found.

Found dead, yet not alone ;

There was somebody near, somebody near,
To claim the wanderer as His own.

And find a home for the homeless here ;
One, when every himian door —

Is closed to children accursed and poor.
Who opens the heavenly portal wide ;

Ah ! (iod was there when the outcast died !

— Anon.

■m-

Selling Violets.

'Mid the ceaseless throng, as it surged along,

In an angle of the street,
She stood and proffered her woodland flowers,

iSweet violets — not so sweet—
And lilies not so fair and pale

As the maiden's foam-white face.
With its fine outline, yet unkempt locUo,

And its subtle southern grace.

And here and there a kindly heart

Would pause a moment's space,
Touched by the poor girl's pleading glance

And the sad and piteous face.

Anil purchase a dewy primrose knot —

A penn'orth of fairy gold —
Hy the silent Ii|>s and the speaking oyon

Ile])aid a hundredfold !

And, lingering there in the crowded square,

I tiiought, Is tiiis but one
Of the thousand sordid secrets hid

In our sorrowfid Babylon ?
Or is the silent woo that looks

From the maiden's great sad eyes
The siiadow pale of some tragic tale

Of sleepless memories ?

— Robert Richardson, in Good Wordn.

Germ of the Orphans' Home, Toronto.

"Such love
Shall chant itself to its own beatitudes,

After its own life-working."

—A lion.

The annual meeting of the Orphans' Homo
(Dover-Court Road, Toronto), was held on tlu^
Sth Juno, 1888. Before the election of officers,
the following beautiful and touching verses were
read by their autiioress, Mrs. C. K. Leigh, the
acting Honorary Secretary of the Home, in the
absence of Miss Mullen, who had discharged
that duty so acceptably for several years. The
sUail newspaper, referring to the poem, stated
that " the feeling manner in which the father-
less children are alluded to by the large-hearted
and talented authoress caused a large amount
of quiet but genuine sympathy."

It is worthy of special note that the proceeds
of a concert, generously given in Toronto many
years ago by Jenny Lind, furnished a large por-
tion of the means by which the first building
for the Home was erected.

They stood upon the stony steps,

Beneath the drizzling rain.
Wrapping their thin clothes round then..

Which the wind blew off again.
In homeless, hungry wretchedness.

Amid the city's roar,
No one to care or watch for them,

As they had cared before.

A hurried step was jiassing on,

(An angel touched that heart),
And turning, gazing on the three.

So desolate — apart
From all the cheer and comfort

Of the happy homes around—
Their pitiful ajipearance,

And bare feet upon the ground.

" Why are you here, poor children ?
In the rain and biting wind. ■ -\

THE WAIFS AND STRAYS, -OTHERS TELLIN(J THEIR STORY.

100

00 home, go to your parents ;
Tliey will Heek you till they find."

" Oh, sir," tho littlu boy replied,

And lowering hiH heiid,
" My father, sir, 'twuB ho first died,

Now, mother, she in dead,

" We have no home, we do not know

A single ereature hero —
We are less lonely when we see

The other people near.
Although they do not speak to us

Like you." — "Come ! ehildrcn, come !

1 will not leave y<ni in the street.

Hut take you to my home."

Within that cosy shelter

The children slept that night,
But e'er tho sun had ri.sen

Witii its gloom-dispelling light,
A germ of thought most loving

To the pastor's mind had come ;
He'd not send forth the little ones,

But build an Orphan's Home.

'Tis forty years, save one, this day,

.Since that resolve was made —
Wide corridors are I'ound us.

Stately arches overhead.
The little seed, sown deep in faith.

Has grown a noble tree,
U'lierc hundreds of the homeless

Have been spared such misery.

Nor this alone, full many a hand,

And busy, active mind.
Has thought and planned and thought again,

'i'he daily meal to find.
But He, who feeds the little birds.

Who have no barn '"r store.
Has always given plenty.

And can give it, more and more.

Is there a pleasure in the world

Compared to easing woe ?
Or telling of the Saviour

Who, when dwelling here below,
Took children in His loving arms

And blessed them by His grace.
Saying, their angels always

See His Father face to face.

- Charlotte E. L?igh.
TiiROSTO, June, 1888.

The Sheltered and the Unsheltered.

At her window, across the street, I see
My neighbor sit with her children three —
How happy they seem, the blessed four !
Now with boys at her feet, on the floor.

And the girl in her lap, their mother tells
How tilt! fox stole out of the midnigiit wood,
Eager to seize the white hen's brood ;
Or the wondrous tale of the silver bells
That chime and rhyme when sister and brother
Cherish :ind help and hjve one another.
Now Harry's curls on her shoulder rest.
While Will creeps up to tho baby's side.
And clote she clasps the three to her breast,
Tender and silent at eventide.

This was the picture, sacred, sweet,

I saw to-night ; when down the street

Came two little roveis, and ga/.ed like me.

The group througii the cryslal pane to see ;

Ragged and wan in the wild cold weather.

Still as statues they stood ^.ogether.

The homeless, fatherless, motherless things, —

Then the curtain dropped; the tales were done;

And haiul in hand they wandered on, —

Hand in hanil, and sobbing low,

Down the street I saw them go ;

And the chill wind sighed, and darkness fell,

As if love for them had said farewell !

My orphan darlings ! I know the lane.
And to-morrow, whether it shine or rain,
I'll bring you out of your wretched room.
To warmth and plenty antl light and bloom.

You shall sit in the glow when day is dying,
Nor mind the dreary sad winds sighing ;
And sheltered and happy, and merry be.
As my neighbor's rosy children three.

— Edna P. Proctor.

The Toronto Humane Society earnestly hopes
that those who look on this touching word-pic-
ture and realize the scene Itself will "go and do
likewise " through the agency of the Society.

The Little Child's Silent Sermon.

'Twas a little sermon preached to me

By a sweet, unconscious child —
A baby girl scarce four years old.

With l)lue eyes, soft and mild.
It happened on a rainy day,

I, suated in a car,
Was thinking, as I neared my home.

Of the continual jar
And discord which pervade the air

Of busy city life.
Each caring but for " number one,"

Self-gain provoking strife.
The gloomy weather seemed to cast

On every face a shade.
But on one countenance were lines

By sorrow deeply laid.

•n^*

_.^,li;

110

THK TORONTO IlL'MANK SOCIKTY.

VVitli luw lidwcil lioiul and hiiihlH clusiiuil close

Shu aut, BO ]>()or uiul old,
Nur suuiiR'd to litMMl t)\i: Ncoi'iiful gliinuo

From cyi'8 unkind and cold.
I looked again. Oh, Hwuut indeed,

Tli(! night tliat nut, my eyes I
Sitting upon her niotiier'H lap,

With hahy face go wise,
Wa.i a wee child with sunny curlH,

Blue eyes and dimpled chin.
And a young, pure anil loving heart

Unstained ua yet by ain.
Upon the woman poor and aotl

}ler eyea in wonder fell.
Till wonder changed to pitying lovo,

Her thoughts, who could tell?
Her tiny handa four roses held ;

She hiokud tlifui (/er and o'er,
Then choosing out the largest one,

She struggled to the Uoor.
Across the swaying car she went

Strai^^ht to the woman's side.
And putting in the wrinkled huud

The rose, she ran to hide
Her little face in mother's lap,

Fearing she had done wrong, >.

Not knowing, bahy as a) e was,

That she had helped along
The uphill road of life a soul

Cast down discouraged (juite,
Aa on the wonian's face there broke

A flood of joyous light.
Dear little child ! She wua indeed

A messenger of love
Sent to that woman's lonely heart

From the great Heai t above.
This world would bo a different place

Were each to give to those
Whose hearts are sad, as much of love

As wheu with baby's rose.

— Burlington Hawkeye.

" Please, Sir, Will You Lift Me Up a Bit?"

A little maid in a pale blue hood
In front of a large brick building stood;
As she jjassed along, her quick eye spied
Some words on a little box inscribed :
'Twas r. box that hung in the vestibule,
Outside the door of a Charity School.

" Ileiuember the Poor " were words she spelled.
Then looked at the dime her small hands held ;
For chocolate creams were fresh that day
In the store just only across the way.
But gleams of victory shone o'er the face
As she raised her eyes to "the money-place."

lint her arm was short ami the box so high
That a gi'ntleman heard, who was i)aaaing by,
" I'lease, air, will you lift me jnst so much?"
(For the tiny lingers could aluioKt touch) —
I'he stranger stopped, iind he ipiickly stood
By the awuut-faued child in the pale blue hood.

As he lifteil her, she gently said,

" Would you mind it, sir, if you turned your

head ?
For you know I do not want to be
Like a proud, stuck-up old Pharisee."
He humored the little maid, but a smile
Played o'er his face as he stood there the while.

" Kxcuae me, child, but what did you say?"

The gentleman aske<l in a courteous w<iy

A% he took in his the wee white band.

*' I believe I didn't (piito understand."

" O, sir, don't you know? Have you never

read,"
Said the child amazed, "what our Saviour

said?"

" We should not give like those hypocrite men
Who stood in the market places then.
And gave their alms just for folks to tell.
Because they loved to bo praised so well ;
But give for Christ's sake from our little store
What only He sees and nobody more.

" Good-bye, kind sir, this is my way home ;

I'm sorry you'll have to walk alone."

Tl-o gentleman pas.scd along, and thought

Of large sums given for fame it brought.

And he said, " I never again will be

In the market places a Pharisee.

She preached nio a sermon ; 'twas true and

good —
Th:it dear little maid in the pale blue hood !"
— Susan Tcall Perry.

" I Turn, Cos I've Dot a Sick Mamma."

A rustle of lobes as the anthem

Soared gently away on the air —
The Sabbath morn's service was over,

And briskly I stepped down the stair ;
When, close in a half illum'd corner.

Where the tall pulpit's stairway came down.
Asleep crouched a tender wee maiden.

With hair like a shadowy crown.

Quite puzzled was I by the vision,
But gently to wake her I spoke.

When, at the first word, the small dam.sel
With one little gasp straight awoke.

" What brought you here, fair little angel ? "
She answered with a voice like a bell.

THE WAIFS AND STRAYS, -OTIIKRS TKLLIXO THEIR STORY.

" I turn, C03 I've dot a sick inaiiitna,
And w.mt 'oo to plnasu pray liur woll ! "

" Who told you '!" bt'gau I; hIio Htoppud iik,';

" Don't, 111)1)1 ly told mo at all,
And papa can't -co toa liu's uryin',

And 'nidea, uir, I isn't 8o Hiiiull ;
I'su IjL'eii here iM^foro with my maiiima,

Wo tuiiiiiicd wlieu you rin^'t^d the big l)nll,
And every tiiiiu 1 su huard yoii prayiii'

For lots o' sick folks to dit w. 11."

Together we knelt on the stairway

As liuml)ly I adkiid the (Jroat INjucr
To give back her he.dtli to her mother,

And baniHli bereavement's dark hour ;
I finished the siinplt! petition

And paused for a moment— and then
A sweet little voice at iiiy elbow

Lisped softly a gentle " Amen ! "

Hand in hand we turned our steps homeward;

The little maid's tongue knew no rest,
Slie prattled and niimieked and caroled —

The shadow was gone from her breast ;
And lo ! when wo reauheil the fair dwelling —

The nest of my golden haired waif —
We found that the dearly-loved mother

Was past the dread crisis— v/aa safe I

Tiiey listened amazed at iny story.

And wept o'er their darling's strange (picst,
While the arms of the pale, loving mother

Drew the brave little head to her breast ;
With eyes that were briinming anil grateful

They tiianked me again and again —
Yet 1 know in my heart that tha blessing

Was won by that gentle " Amen I "

— ir. /{. A'ose.

"I'm Losted, Oh, I'm Lostedl"

" I'm losted ! Could you find me please ? "

Poor little frightened baby !
The wind had tossed her golden fluceo.
The stones had scratched her dimpled knees ;
I stooped and lifted her with ease,

And softly whispeied " May bo."

"Tell me your name, my little maid :

I can't find you without it,"
" My name is ' Shiny-eyes," " she said.
"Yes, but your last name?" She shook her

head ;
" Up to my house 'oy never said

A single word about it."

" But, dear," I said, " what is your name? "
" Why, didn't you hear me told you ?

Diiit Shinyoyeii." A bright thought eanie :
" Yes, when you're gooil, but when they blumo
You, little (Hie ; is it just the same
When niainma has to auold you?"

" My mamma never scolds," she nioani,

A little blush ensuing.
" '('opt when I've been a-frowing stones,
Anil then she says (the eul|)rit owns)
' Mehitablo Sophia .fonen.

What have you been a-doing?' "
— Aima F, I'uiuham, in ItoMon Traveller,

The Memory of a Son^.

The window curtains, rich and dark,
Are drawn behind the pane, , . .

The shadows from the bright firelight
Still play and dance the same. . . .

The owner of the nivnsion sits

Ahme, and in the )<liaile ;
He sees no dancing bright tireligh.t

Nor heeds the shapes it made.

He sees the dear, dear face he loved, —

A face so young and fair.
With bright, true, laughing eyes of blue,

And dark, rich au!)urii hair.
Oh ! who can know the bitter pang

Thiit rends a heart in twain ;
When death takes all that made life sweet,

And leaves behind but pain !

A strain of music rises, now —

IJut liarfih — from out the street,
Beneath that lofty window's arch

Where dark, rich curtains meet.
A youthful voice, untutored.

And hoarse, from wet and cold.
Sang feebly to a well-worn harp

A song both blithe and bold.

....*■ t

It brought a flush of angry hue

Across the listener's brow, —
" He shall not sing her song, out there ;

" It is too sacred, now 1 " . . .

He heard his powdered footman stop

The music in the street ;
And then, a slow reluctant step

Go past the window seat.
Quick back he drew the curtained silk,

And saw a child go by.
Dent down beneath his weary harp.

With a face too brave to cry.

A moment, and he watched the boy
Leaving his pillared door,

112

THU TOIIONTO IIUMANK SOCIKTY.

Then pity'n look cftinc o'er IiIh face,

A look uiikiiowii Ixtforc :
" I wiiH too Iiiu'hIi," hu Hiiiil iiloiul,—

" l((> ilid not think it wroiitj ;
Dut oh, what fo liiigH crowd itroiiiul,

The inoiiiory of thut song ! "

He pniiHtiil in thought a moment there,

A iiioini'iit liii^'creil nuar.
" YeH, for lifr Hako, I'll follow him;

" Tluit xiiu^ in now «<i dear."
Forgetting win<l and rain and eold,

The millionaire Ket out,
And truckled the poor boy down the struot,

Nor stopped to think or doubt.

Ho followed on through eold, wet Htreets,

Where dim lampH Hhed their light.
Though joMtltMl by the pasHtus-by,

And thruHt to left an<l riglit ;
He Htruggled on, for Htill he thought

Of Hong, and wife aiul love, —
Was it the Hong that guided him, or

Our Father's hand, above ';'

At length a stairway steep and dark

Leads to a gai'ret drear. . . .
He heard, while pausing at the duor,

Some words of that sad song —
" No money, though I play'd my best," —

" Well, dear. His will be done I "

He enters now the room, and sees

The mother (m a be<l ;
The old harp leaning 'gainst the wall,

The boy's hands to his head.
A moment more, — they tell him all :

Their tale of want and woe, —
A moment more, they bless his name,

With happy hearts aglow.

That mother's strength is ebbing fast ;

Her face is wan and thin :
" To-night, I'm going home, dear boy ;

Yes, going home to Him ! '

So when the last sad rites are o'er.
For death's eold hand was there.

The stranger takes the poor boy thence,
ilis house and home to share.

And now, within that mansion grand.
The waud'rer, housed, was glad ;

Was taught to know the rapturous power
Of music, gay or sad ;

And so, by kind instruction's aid.
He leaves the strings he played

And luaruH the truer, nobler strains,
The grand old masters maile.

Years have passeil slowly o'er thoir headj,

The Uiy has changed to nuin |
His old frienil'M \u;nil is whiter far

Than when this tale began.
And in the (piiet ev'ning time.

Together they are seen.
In a gothie old cathedral gray,

With lights and shades between.

There— ivs they play and listen— each,

In that cathedral, dim.
Where pale cold marbles speak of life

8et free from |>ain and sin.

They both, with thankful hearts reeall'd
" The menu)ry of a song !"

— G. S. II. , ill Canadian Monthly.
Toronto, May, 1880.

" Me and Bob and Jim."

Yes, sir, we're sailor's children,

We live there by the sea.
And father went oil' with the fleet

A n:onth ago may bo.
And mother feels so badly

To have him gone away,
If 'twasn't for us children hero

I think she'd cry all day.

You see there's me and Bobby,

Aiul then here's little Jim,
He always hangs back 'cause he's 'fraid

That folks won't speak to him.
He never knew his mother,

She died so long ago.
And then his father, too, was lost

In lost year's uwful blow.

And father said as long as

He'd sailor's heart in him
There'd always be a place

To slielter little Jiu).
He thinks he's ours for truly.

And laughs and acts so glad
When father comes, you ought to see

Him hug, and call him "dad."

But often in the summer

We children like to go
To where the little churchyard lies.

The sailors' church, you know.
His mother's there, so always

We put some flowers from .Jim, "
We want him to remember her,

'Cause she remembered him.

80MK WAIFS AND THEIR FAITHFUL MOTHKRH.

118

li,

r liuadj,

lifu

Wlieii futliur miileil ho told iih

To wiit<'li for tlm ntiw moon,
For whuii it liuiig tluui! in tliu west

Till' (kx't would li« l>u<!k noon.
hiiHt ni^lit we Haw it Nliininff

Ax liriglit iiH liriglit could lie,
And iiiotlur mivH thi' " Livtdy Jano "

Will noon iivt ill from hou.

You Hi'u it'll iiuniud for mother,
And fiitlier HayH he'd '* think

A iHiiit that had a name like that
Would never want to itink."

He'll come buck to mot aumo iloweri,

Hu loVUM thu viollltH HO.

The poMieH ain't of much aucouiit,
Down by thu Roa, you know.

So if you'll come and weo ui—

'I'hi^ |ilae(' ain't hard to tlnd,
That little brown hoii»e by the I'uckH,

The ulill in juHt behind—
And if the " Lively .lane " in in

With father— you'll Hee him.
But, iinyway, yriu always can

Kind me and lioh ami dim.

Alia Slcwort Slulton.

jall'd
'onth/y.

fraid

IV. SOME WAIFS AND THEIR FAITHFUL MOTHERS.

"Tliiru is . . . 110 fount of such clcop, HtioiiK, iluuthlesi love, as that within a luolhtr'n heurt."- J//-«. Ileiiuinit.
Ami iet— " they may lornut."— Inaiiih xllx. 16.

"A picture memory l)rintfH to me;
I lool( aeroBH the yearn, ami lee
MyHelt beside my motlier's knee."

—J. (.'. Whilliei:

That all mothers of waifs have not been un-
true to their sacred trust is well known. How
many of these faithful, humble women have
Hown the good seed, can be thankfully t<dd to
their honor. They did so, with ai.xious, lov-
ing hearts, and in simple dependence that
their oft imperfect teaching would bo watered
by the great Father of their children in heaven ;
and that, in due time, it would bring forth
fruit to the honor and glory of f Jod.

These tales and stories of waif-life in our
cities would be incomplete were not a record
of the noble discharge of duty on the part of
these mothers inserted in this publication.

Those who have read the very beautiful and
touching' story of " Mother's Last Words,"
written some years ago by !Mrs. Sewall, of
Quebec, will not fail to be gratefully thank-
ful to God that so many such mothers are to
be found here and there in humble life — espe-
cially those described by Mrs. Sewall and other
writers. Their record is on high.

Examples of a Mother's Early Influence.

The Toronto Evangtlical Churchman, of the
7th June, 1888, says : —

"President J. Q. Adams, of the United States,
never went to bed without repeating this prayer,
first taught him by his mother, whose memory
was so dear to him to the last—

" ' Now I lay me down to sleep !'" ^

"The following j)oem, among the tenderest
in our language, descriptive of a child sayiiiL'
this prayer, is taken from Puhium'n Maynzirie : '

(Jolden head so slowly bending,
Little feet, so white and bare;

l)ewy eyes, half shut, half opened —
Lisping out her evening prayer.

Well she knows when she is saying,
" Now I lay me down to sleep,"

'Tis to (Jod that slie is praying.
Praying Him her soul to keep.

Half asleep, and nmrmuring faintly,
" If I should die before I wake — "

Tiny fingers clasped so saintly—
" I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Oh the rapture, sweet, unbroken,
Of the soul who wrote that prayer ?

Children's myriad voices floating
Up to heaven, record it tliere.

If, of all that has been written,

I could choose what might bo mine.

It should be that child's petition,

Rising to the throne divine. -

The two following poems on the same sub-
ject are added : —

\Vhen I pass from earth away.
Palsied tho' I be, and gray,

114

THE TORONTO HUMANh SOCIETY.

May my spirit keep so young
That my failing, fiiltering tongue,
Lisp that prayer so dear to nie,
Wliiaperiid at my mother's kuee:

" Now I lay me down to sloej) "—
Passing to eternal i at
On the loving parent breai t.

" I pray the Lord my soul to keep" —
From all danger saie and ealm,
In the hollow of His palm.

" If 1 should die before I wake " —
Drifting with abated breath
Out from slumber into death —

•• I pray the Lord my soul to take. "
Fi'om the body's chains set free,
Sheltered in eternity.

Simple prayer of trust and tri'.th,
Taught me in my early youth.

Let my soui its beauty keep
When I lay me down to sleep.

— Ella IVheder Wilcox.

" Now I lay me down to sleep,"
And the blue eyes, dark and deep,
Let. their snowy curtains down.
Edged with fringes golden brown.
"All day long the angels fair,
I've been watching over t'.iere ;
Heaven's not far, 'tis just in sight,
Now they're calling me, goodnight.
Kias mj, mother, do not weep,
Now I lay me down to sleep.

Over there, just over there,
I shall say my morning prayer;
Kiss me, r"other, do not weep.
Now I lay me down to sleep. "

Tangled ringlets, all smooth now,
Looped back from the waxen brow,
Little hands so dimpled, white,
Clasped together, cold to-night.
Where the mossy, daisied sod,
Brought sweet messages from God,
Two pale lips with kisses pressed,
There we left her to her rest.
And the dews of evening weep
Where we laiil her down to sleep.

Over there, judt over there,
List the angeVs morning prayer;
Lispings low througli fancy sweep,
" Now I lay me down to sleep."

A 11071.

Little Phil and His Mother.

" Make me a headboard, mister, sn.ooth and

painted, you see ;
Our ma she died last winter, and sister and

Jack and me
Last Sunday could hardly find her, so many

new graves about,
And Bud cried out, 'We've lost her,' when Jack

gave a little shout.
We have worked and saved all winter — been

hungry, sometimes, I own —
But we hid this much from father, under the

old doorstonc ;

WATCHING FOR LITTLE PHIL.

He never goes there to see her ; he hated her ;
scolded Jack

When he heard us talking about her, and wish-
ing that she'd come back.

But up in thi3 ganet we whisper and have a
good time to cry,

For our beautiful mother who kissed us, and
wasn't afraid to die.

Put on that she was forty, in November she
went away,

That she was the beat of mjtl vs, and we
haven't forgot to pray ;

And we mean to do as she taught us — be lov-
ing ami true and square,

To work and read, to love her, till wo go to
her up there.

SOME WAIFS AND THEIU I AITRFUL MOTHERS.

115

W//s

" Let Mie board be white, like mother " (the

small chin quivered here),
Aiid the lad coughed something under, and

concjuered a rebel tear.
" Here is all we could keep from father, j.

dollar and thirty cents,
Tlie rest he's got for coal and flour, an<l partly

to pay the rents. "
niushing the wiiite lie over, and dropping the

honest eyes,
" What is the price of headboards, with writ-
ing and handsome size ? "
"Three dollars?" A young roe wounded, just

falls with a moan ; a<.id he
With a face like the ghost of his mother, sank

down on his tattered knee,
"Three dollars? and we shall lose her next

winter the rain and the snow." —
But the boss had his arms around him, and

cuddled the head of tow
Clc3e up to the great heart's shelter, and wo-
manly tears fell fast —
" Dear boy you sliall never losa her ; cling

to your blessed past !
Come to-morrow, and bring your sister and

Jack, and the board shall be
Tiie best that this shop can furnish ; — then come

here and live with me. "

When the orphans loaded their treasure on the

ragged old cart next day.
The surprise of a footboard varnished, with all

that their love could say ;
And "Edith St. John, Our Mother !"-- baby

Jack gave his little shout.
And Bud like a mountain daisy, went dancing

her doll about.
But Phil grew white and trembled, and close

to the boss he crept.
Kissing him like a woman, shivered and

laughed and wept ;
"Do you think" (and here ho faltered) "in

heaven that she'll be glad ? "
" Not as glad as you are, Philip, but finish this

job, my lad."

— A non.

A Rose for His Father's Coflin.

A little boy in this city, the possess )r of a
solitary cent, after his fatiier's death the other
day entered a store on Youge Street, anil asked
for a white rose in exchange for it. The florist
explained that tiio rose wis valued at twenty
cents, but w lien lie learned tliat the lad wanted
it to put on his father's colhn, he silently gave
it to the boy and sent it on its sacreit ..lission.

His father died ; the pure-faced, bright-eyed
boy

Stood, half afraid.
And iiiw the piles of emblematic flowers

U|>on the cotiin laid.

Up s;)rang the ready tears, lie stood and gazed

On him who slept ;
He felt how iielpless, you.ig and weak he was.

Then, boy-like, turned and wept.

Sudden, the sunshine flashed across his face ;

Lo ! had he not a cent !
With eager hand he graspei' the precious coin.

Then joyous outward went.

Past candy "hops with sweet and tempting
front.

Past groups of boys at play,
Witli flashing eye and sweetly trembling lip.

He held upon his way.

Straigiit to a florist's world of summer bloom

With eager feet he goes ;
He proudly holdj aloft his sacred cent:

" (Jive me a big white rose.

"There's piles and piles of flowers around his
bed.

But though lie cannot see,
I think 'twould please him if he only got

A snow-white rose from me."

He got *he rose and laid it with a tear

Upon his father's breast.
Will) knows! the angels saw that stainless i-nse

Was sweeter than the i est !

— The Khan, in the Toronto Ttkgram.

May, 1888.

The Wanderer's Prayer.

On a cold, dreary evening in autumn, « »n^\\
boy, poorly dail, yet clean mid tidy, with • .»p m
his hand, knneked at tho diMir of mp, ul.l i.ii. .kii

in the town of S . " Wiyi Mr ! vl

home?" Tho l«)y wiithc!<t tii •»•«■ In . i«

speedily ushereil into hi* |irf»i i. •

Friend [..aniiian w.t* i>ii>

men in the county, itu.l (: „.

L Valley IUllr<M<l Wtf Imf >.

to see if he omltl vliltal •

road. He said he

had been duod ouly

now a homcleiia witnti

too snuill for the tilhiiy mI »mf

Quaker's gift, and hi> wm ft»ri«iw4 |«

Still ')e liked the lu<>k> uf tlw hMf ,

him :

116

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

h'"'

"Thee stop in my liouac to-night, and on thv-
morrow I will give tiiue the names of two or
three g -od men in I'liiladelphia, to whom thee
may ap[)ly, with assurance to a kind reception
at least. I am sorry that I have no employ-
ment for thee."

Later in the evening the old Quaker went
the rounds of his spacious mansion, lantern in
hand, as he was wont, to see if all was safe
before retiring for the ni'^iit. As he passed the
door of the little chamber where the poor wan-

dutiea of life, and possessed a warm, grateful
heart. " I verily think the lad will be a trea'j-
ure to his employer," was his concluding re-
ilection.

When the morning came the Quaker had
changed hia mind concerning his answ er to the
boy's application.

' Vbo taught thee to pray?" aaked friend
Lanman.

"My mother, sir," was the soft reply, and
the rich brown eyes grew moi»t.

TUE LITTLE WANDERER WAITING AT THE QtTAKER'.S DOOR.

dcrer had been placed to sleep, he heard a
voice. He stopped and distinguished the tones
of an earnest, simple prayer. He bent his ear
nearer, and heard these words from the lips of
the boy :

" Good Father in heaven 1 help me to help
myself. Watch over me as 1 watch over my
own conduct ! Bless the good man in whose
house I am sheltered, and spare him long that
he may continue his bounty to other suffering
and needy ones. Amen."

And the Quaker responded anotlier Amen as
he moved on ; and as he went ■>n his way he
meditated. The boy had a true idea of the

"And thee will not forget thy mother's
counsels ?"

" I cannot ; for I know that my success in
life is dependent upon iheni."

" My boy, thou mayest stay here in my
house, and very soon I will take thee to my
olKce. (jIo now and got thy breakfast. "

Friend Lanman lived to see the boy he had
adopted rise, step by step, until he finally as-
sumed the responsible office which the failing
guardian ould hold uo longer.— .4 non.

The Toronto Humane Coclaty asks for help
In providing a temporary home, or shelter, for
such Uttlo waifs and wanderrrs.

SOME WAIFS AND THEIR FAITHFUL MOTHERS.

117

Motherless I

From a far-away country town a box of wild
flowers had come to the Children's Hospital in

tiie city of C . Just at dusk the new nurse

stopped in her rounds before one cot where
a poor little sufferer lay, clasping in his thin
iiand a bunch of blue violets. The little fellow
tossed and turned from side to side; ever and
anon he would start up, nrwm.iring something
about " Little Jack," then I'all back whispering,
"Too late, too kite."

" liad case, bad case, nurse; father and mo-
ther both died of same fever, baby found dead,
and this boy will go soon;" and the old doctor
shook his hea'' gravely.

"Poor little fellow," murmured the nurse.
" To die alone, no motlisr's hand to wipe away
the gatherin;^ dews of death ; no mother's arm ;
no mother's kiss ! "

.Slie brushed back the damp golden curls from
the white forehead ; the blue eyes opened wide
and a f.int voice whispered, "Mother!" The
nurse bent pityingly over him ; his eyes searched
her face, then closed wearily. " Oh, I want my
mother, I want my mother ! " he moaned.

"Poor boy," said the physician, "he w'U
have his mother soon."

Tiie child started up. "Rock me, mother,"
lie cried. Very tenderly the doctor lifted the
little figure and placed it in the nurse's arms;
the weary head dropped upon her shoulder;
tile hands, still holding the violet's, were folded
lovingly around her neck. To and fro she cra-
dled him ; the room was growing dark, a faint
streak of light came in at the eastern window
ind slipped softly across the ledge.

".Sing to me," the ciiild softly whispered.
Very sweetly on the ai'' rose and fell the music
of that old, old hymn,

" Hide me, O, my Saviour hide.
Till the storm of life be past."

Nearer and nearer crept the moonlight till it
touched the swaying figure.

" Safe into the haven guide.
O, receive my soul at last."

The song ceased. " Mother, I'm too tired to
kneel to-night," murnmrcd the child; and then
he softly added, " Now — I — lay me down — to

—sleep 1 ■." With a long sigh the blue

eyes closed tiredly ; the arms slipped down ; all
was still. The moonlight Hooded the room with
silver; it lingered .vbout the little white-robed
child ; it fell iipon the golden curls and the half-
closed lids, and the withered flowers fallen
loosaly now from the tired hands. There was

a faint, sweet perfume of violets as the rocker
crushed to and fro; nothing stirred in the room
save the swaying fij,are in the moonlight.

The doctor touched the nurse and gently
s:iid: "The child is with its mother."— Detroit
Free Presn.

The Old Minstrel's Mother's Home.

The hall was crowded one evening when the
minstrels were giving a performance. They
had finished "My Old Kentucky Home, Good
Night," with its touching lament —

" The head must bow, and the back will have
bend.
Wherever the wand'rer may go;
A few more days and the troubles will all
end
In the fisld where the sugar-canes grow. "

They then took up the song with its sweet re-
frain of "The Swanee River." The tumult of
applause was hushed by the appearance of a
I'agged old wreck crowding to the front.

Lifting his banjo as a sign of brotherhood, he
cried with a choking voice:

" Boys, sing that song once more — once more
for a poor old minstrel's sake. It brings back
the lost and dead ; my old home rises before
me, where I was once good and happy all the
day. I learned the song there of my mother.
The vision of her smiling face praising her boy
comes back witli the ringing notes of the banjo,
and the memories of long ago. I wandered
away to play and sing for the world. It lis-
tened and apjilauded. I was flattered, feasted,
intoxicated with fame am' the whirl of pleas-
ures. But I wrecked it all. Now, old and
broken down in heart aiul strength, I am left
with but one friend— my banjo. She who first
jiraiscd me died while I was playing for the
world — died without secir<^ me for years. The
world has forsaken me as I did her. Boys,
sing my mother's song again, and let my old
heart thrill with a better life once more."

The hou.se signalled its assent. The old min-
strel sat down in the front row. When the
solo reached the concluding lines of the second
stanza, the singer's eyes turned pityingly upon
the wanderer, and, witli a voice trembling willi
pity, came the words —

" All up and down this world I wandered,
When I was young :
Oh, many were the days I squandered.
Many were the songs I sung."

The stranger sat bending forward, the tears
coursing down the furrows of care, his fingers
unconsciously caressing the strings of his bat-

118

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

tered Imnjo. All the summer of his life came
back to his heart again. Mother, home, love,
uiiil all hi» boyiiood dreams.

The chorus began, and the shrivelled fingers
sought the chords. \Vith a strange, weird
harmony unheard before, the strains floated
along the tide of song. The iiouiie was spell-
bound. The time-worn instrument seemed to
catch its master's spirit, and high above the
accompaniment rang the soul like chords from
its quivering strings.

When the interlude came, the minstrci
leaned over his banjo with all the fondness of a
mother over her babe. Not a sound from either
was heard. The solo rose again and the almost
supernatural harmonies drifted with it. But
he bowed like a mourner over the dead. Every
heart in the audience was touched, and tears
of sympathy were brushed away by many
hands. The singer's eyes were moist, and with
plaintive sadness the last lines were sung.

The last chorus followed. The hoary head
of the minstrci was lifted, and his face shone
with the light of a new dawning. His voice
joined with a peculiar blending, perfect in
harmony, yet keeping with his banjo high
above the singers, ringing like a rich harp-
string long overstrained. The memory of
better days, the waywardness, sorrow, remorse,
hope and despair of all his wasted life seemed
pent up in these marvellous tones. The chorus
closed, and his head sank down, the long white
locks shrouding the banjo.

The manager came before the audience and
said :

"The minstrels will give one-half of the
benefit proceeds to their wandering brother."

The house approved with loud demonstra-
tions. A collection started in the galleries and
swept over the hall like a shower. Such a con-
tribution was never gathered before. Again
the audience broke forth in round after round
of hearty cheers.

lUit the banjo was still hushed under the
shroud of snow-white hair, and no word of
thanks, or token of gratitude, came from the
silent figure toward which all eyes were turned.
They called him to come up, and the manager
went to bring him there. He laid bis hand on
the bowed head, but there was silence — the
soul of the old minstrel had pas3e<l away. He
vras dead ! He had sung that lasi song on the
borders of the spirit land. Sung it as the bird
sings when it escapes the prison bars which
make life " sad and dreary," and flies far away
from the scenes where " the heart grows weary
with longing." — New Brunsicick Paper, 1881.

His Mother's Songs.

Beneath the hot midsummer sun,

The men had marched all day ;
And now beside a ripjiling stream

Upon the grass they lay.

Tiring of games and idle jests,

As 8W.j|it the hours along.
They called to one who mused apart,

"Come, friend, give us a song."

"I fear I cannot please," he said;

"The only songs I know
Are those my mother used to sing

For me long years ago. "

"Sing one of those," o rough voice cried,
"There's none but true men here;

To every mother's son of us
A mother's songs are dear. "

Then sweetly rose the singer's voice

Amid unwonted calm,
"Am I a soldier of the cross

A follower of the lamb ?

"And shall I fear to own His cause ?" —

The very stream was 8tille<l,
And hearts that never throbbed with fear

With tender thoughts were filled.

Ended the song, the singer said,

As to his feet he rose,
"Thanks to you all, my f.iends: good-night,

God grant us sweet repose. "

" Sing us one more," the captain begged ;

The soldier bent his head,
Then glancing 'round, with smiling lips,

"You'd join with me," he .said.

" We'll sing this old familiar air.

Sweet as the bugle call,
'All hail the power of Jesus' name.

Let angeb prostrate fall. ' "

Ah ! wondrous was the old tune's spell

As on the singer sang .
Man after man fell into line,

And loud the voices rang !

The songs are done, the .,amp is still,
Naught but the stream is heard ;

Rut ah 1 the depths of every soul
By those old hymns are stirred.

And up from many a bearded lip,

fn whispers soft and low.
Rises the prayer the mother taught

The boy long years ago.

— Chicago Inter-Ocean.

MEMORIES OF OTHER AND BETTER DAYS.

119

V. MEMORIES OF OTHER AND BETTER DAYS.

Tlie following story shews very strikingly
how powerful are the influences for good which
ere awakened in the Sunday-school, as well as
nt tile faithful mother's knee. The Editor met
with several similar instances during the years
ISOT-lSTfl, when he had charge of the Toronto
Jail Mission (und in the latter year of the
Central Prison Mission). The singing of well-
known hymns awakened many bad and touch-
ing -and, in the remt mbrance of those hymns,
bitter — memories in the hearts of numbers of
the inmates of the jail or prison. In speaking
to those so affected, they would often tearfully
•ccall the happy days long gone by, when they
had sung these very hymns, before thej- had
tasted the bitter cup of sin and shame and
sorrow.*

Memories Awakened by a Hymn.

There is no hymn in the language dearer to
many hearts than Phcebe Gary's "Nearer
llouie. " The following touching incident in
connection with the singing of it is related in a
letter of Miss Gary's to her mother, in which
she says : —

"A gentleman visiting Ghina had been in-
trusted with packages for a young man from
his friends in the United States, and after in-
quiry learned that he might probably be found
in a certain gambling house. He went thither,
but, not seeing him, determined to w?it, in the
expectation that he might come in. 'Ira place
was a bedlam of noises, men getting angry over
their cards and frecjuently coming to blows.
Near him sat two men — one young, the other
about forty years of age. They were betting
and drinking in a terrible way, the older one

giving utterance to continued profanity. Two
games had been finished, the young man losing
each time. The third game, with fresh bottles
of brandy, had just begun, and tlie young man
sat lazily back in the chair while the elder was
arranging the cards, the young man looking care-
lessly about the room, began humming a tunc.
He went on till at length he began to sing the
beautiful lines of I'hd'be Gary, as quoted above;
the elder stopped dealing the cards, stared at
the singer a moment, and, throwing the cards
on the floor, e.vclaimed : — ' Harry, where did
you learn that hymn?' 'Whathynm?' 'Why,
the one that you've been singing.' The young
man said he did not know what he had been
singing, when the elder repeated the words,
with tears in his eyes, and the young man sairl
he had learned it in a Sunday school in America.
' Come,' said the elder, getting up ; ' come,
Harry, here's what I W(m from you ; go and
use it for some good purpose. As for me, as
God sees me, I have played my last game and
drank my last bottle. I have misled you,
Harry, and I am sorry. Give me your hand,
my boy, and say that, for old America's sake,
if for no other, yon will quit this dreadful busi-
ness.' The gentleman who tells the story saw
these two men leave the gambling house to-
gether, and walk away arm in arm,"

Revivtd of Touching Memories in Prison.

When Maria Hoze Mapleston was recently
in Auburn, N. Y., she visited the State Prison.
With j'reat kindness and womaidy spirit, as
did .Jenny Lind, years ago, she ofTered to sing
to the prisoners. She made one condition, and
that was that all of the inmates should be per-
mitted to be present, and that those in solitary
confinement should, also, as a special privilege,
be permitted to come into the chapel and join

'So iinpressert was ttie Editor of this putircvtion (while Superintendent of the Mis8ion)with .ha recurrence o' 'nci-
dents like those mentioned, thritone .Siuiday moriiinjf. in 18()S, he ro<nie9ted such of the prisoners aa had everutten i id
a Sunday -seliool to rise in tlicir i>Iacej, »nd tlius inform him of the tact. He did not expect more than one in ten to
rise ; hut to his t;reat surprise, ont of thirty-two female prisoners twenty-four robo, and out of fifteen male prisoners,
twelve (jave the same testimony, as did also the entire class of ei;,'lit hoys! Thus out of fifty-five prisoners forty-four
acknowledffed that they had once heen Sunday-school scholars, enjoying the precious i)rivileKes and surrounded hy
many of the hallowe<l associations of these institutions. In this case, as tested in 1808, was an api>arent exumjile of the
untniitfulncss of Sunday-school tcachin}.'. And yet the memory of the (■(iwinjj'of that unfructified seed was there
touchin;,'ly recalled. The incident hrouffht hack most \ividly the prophetic vvorJs of the wise Preacher: "In the
morning sow thy seed, and in the eveninir withhold not thine hand ; for thou knowest not which sha'l prosper, whether
this or that, or whether they I oth shall he alike K'ood." (Kcclcs. xi. 6, Uev. Ver.) In the New York litdrpexdc.nt, i.f
l)l>t May, 1888, questions somen hat similar to the forifroins; were atked by an evanijelist of a large assemhlaife iit St.
I aul, Minnesota, in 188'. The report of the answers is as follows; "The evangelist first asked for those who became
Christians a ter the age of fifty to rise, anil one rose ; he next asked for those who became Christians between tlie agci
of forty and fifty to rise, and one rose; then he asked in turn for those to rise who became Christians between thirty
and forty, and twenty-one rose ; for those between twenty-five ai.d thirty, and thirty-eight rose ; for those h ho became
Christians between twenty and twenty-five, and one hundred rose; for tliose who became Christians before twenty
yea s of age, and six hundred rose ! " What a lesson as to responsibility do thcs.' striking facts teach us? And what a
rcs-ponHibility rests upon the individual teachers of our Sunday -schools I Their teaching, to be effective and soul-saving,
nmst be soul-searching, as well as full of loving appeals to the young heart, to become "Christ's soldiers and servants
unto their lives' end."

120

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

till! otlior convicts in listonin;^ to the intisiu
which »\u: i)n)|»().su(l to ying. Tlie rc(juu.st wan
grunted, and tlio poor fellows, sonic of thoni for
the lirst time were j)ernutte(l to hear from an
iiecdinplisheil artist the sweot notes that re-
minded them of the innocent days of yonth.
Tlie chief selections of Mme. Roze were "Sweet
Spirit, Hear my Prayer" and "The Sweet By
and By." As they listened, even tlie most
hardened criminals among them were moved to
tears. After this the fair cantatriee made a
tour of the institntion. On her return she sung
to the prisoners the old familiar air, "Coniin'
Thro' the Rye." Meanwhile some of the most
intelligent among the convicts had been per-
mitted to prepare a testimonial of thanks,
which they presented to the lady. It closed
with tiie following quotation : —

"God sent his singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men
And bring them back to heaven again."

There was no donbt that every one of these
twalve iiundred prisoners worked with cheerier
hearts all that day, and that those in solitary
confinement especially, will, for a long time,
rw^all and enjoy this fresh ray of sunlight.

A Touching Prison Picture.

" Uood-bye. papa," lauglied a little child, as
her mother lield her up that she might kiss her
father through the grated door of the prison.
" Dond-liye, and hurry and turn back. What
is all oo men doin' with my papa?" she con-
tinued, gazing in on the rough-looking prison-
ers, who were crowding near the door ; " dood-
bye everybody, and let my papa turn right
back and see his little girl soon."

Then she clambered down, and ran away,
while the big iron door closed after her, as a
sullen cloud darkens the sunlight. This little
child, with her innocent prattle, looking in
upon and talking to a group of hardened men
was a pretty and touching sccmc. As she put
her little face against the bars and kissed her
jiapa, those within that prison could not re-
strai 1 their tears. Men were there whose lives
had been on the darkest side of existence, who
would liesitate at scarcely any crime, whose
characters were hardened and corrupted liy
sin ; yet a simple little scene like the above, a
few prattling words of a child, reached down
through every covering ai d touched their hu-
man hearts, and their better emotions. It
kindled within them lingering memories of
other and better days, and stirjed up the little

remaining sentiniont of manhood, husli.mdhood,
fatherhood I Tlie visit of the child Icit a last
ing impression on those men and opened their
hearts to better resolves. However, it was,
after all, only one of the many occurrences
that take ])lacd in that little world of itself -a
city court and its prison.— C/erp/ami Voir/'.

"God Pity the Wretched Prisoners."

(lod pity the wretched prisoners

In their lonely cells to-day ;
Whatiivor the sins that tripped them,

(Jod pity them still, I say.

Only a strip of sunshine

Cleft by rusty bars ;
Only a patch of azure,

Only a cluster of stars.
Only a, barren future

To starve their hopes upon ;
Only stinging memories

Of a post that's better gone.

Once they were little children.

And perhaps their unstained feet
Wliere led by a gentle mother

Tow ards that golden street ;
Therefore, if in life's forest

They sipce have lost their way,
For the sake of her who loved them,

(Jod pity them still, I say.

O, mothers gone to heaven.

With earnest heart I ask
That your eyes may not look earthward

On the failure of your task ;
For even in those mansions

The choking tears would rise.
Though the fairest hand in heaven

Would wipe them from your eyes.

And you who judge so harshly.

Arc you sure the stumbling stone
That tripped the feet of others

Might not have bruised your own ?
Are you sure the sad-faced angel,

Who writes our errors down,
Will ascribe to you more honor

Tiian him on whom you frown ?

Or, if a steadier purpose

Unto your life be giv.en — • . . ^-

A stronger will to conquer —

A smoother path to heaven ;
If, when temptations meet you.

You can crush tl>em with a smile.
If you can chain pale passion.

And keep your lips from guile ;

MKMORIES OF OTHER AND RKTTER DAYS.

121

Then l)less the han^l that crowned you,

Ruinoinhoring as you go,
''J'v.as not your own endeavor

That sliaj)cd your.nature so ;
And sneer not at tlie weakness

Tliat nuide a brother fall,
For the hand that lifts the fallen,

(iod loves the hest of all.
Then pray for the wretched prisoners,

All o'er the land to-day,
That a holy hand in pity

May wipe their guilt away,

—0. li. P., in the. Mail.
ToKONTo, April, 1872.

How Music Called a Wanderer Home.

When the Fiak Juhileo Singers were in To-
ronto, two young girls, who had been led astray,
went to hear them. One was hardened in her
sin— the other was not. They sat unnoticed in
the gallery. The sweet and tender music, so
touciiing and true to nature, entered like a
limpid stream into the soul of the younger girl,
and filled her whole heart. She leaned forward
and caught every word, with lier eyes shining,
and her red lips trernliling. People turneil
round and wor lered at the fair face, and watclied
her soul shining through her great eyes, but
they ne\er suspected who she was or whence
she came. There she sat, still, immobile, witli
her small gloved hands tightly clenciied, anil
every nerve in her little body strung to an
almost painful tension. All was still in the
pavilion. The very gas lights hold themselves
motionless, as if afraid to make a sound. The
great audience was iiushed. And then a note,
sweet and tender, but full and rich as moon-
light, swelled and rose like a sea, and then, like
a shower of pearls falling through the sounding
waters, a woman's voice sang:

" Bright sparkles in the churchyard,
Oive light unto the tomb;
Bright summer — spring's over —
Sweet Howers in their bloom."

The girl in the gallery gave a great shud-
dering sob. The singer looked up and went on :

" My mother, once —

My mother, twice —
In the heaven she'll rejoice.

In the heaven, once —

In the heaven, twice —
In the heave.i she'll rejoice."

Again the girl in the gallery uttered a long
shuddering sob, and hid her white stricken face
in her trembling hands. But still the mnsic
fluttered ' bout her like the rustling of an angel's
wings —

" Mother, don't you lovo your darling child?
Oh, rock mo in the cradle all the day."

She sa* -till and heard till the last cadence
of music died away.

" I must go from here," said tlu' girl hoarsely,
" let me go. Don't follow me— I will be better
soon."

She hurried out and fled like a frightened
deer. She was mad ! Her eyes were hot and
dry- -her brain was on fire, and all the while a
wondrous choir was singing in her ears:

"Bright sparkles in the churchyard,
(iive light unto the tomb;
Bright summer — spring's over —
Sweet flowers in their bloom."

She fled like a huntec' thing till the lights of
the city were far belinid, and slie was alone on
a country road. She stopped to I'est a moment,
but the chorus went onward through the sky,
and she couhl not stop, for the words were
beckoning to her —

"Your mother, once —
Your mother, twice —
In the heaven she'll rejoice."

Tireless she followed on, on, the long, long
night. The moo.i went down and she got blind,
and staggered, anil groped upon her way, but
she said hoarsely, " I must go on. I'll be bet-
ter soon. "

In the morning a farmer threw open his door
and saw lying on the steps the soiled figure of
a girl. He picked her up and laid her on his
own bed, and his wife laid the white pleading
face against her warm bosom. A stream of
music reached the ears of the dying girl —

" Mother, don't you love your darling child ?
Then rock me in tiie cradle all the day."

She sank back with a weak, pleased smile.
" Rock me, mother ; that's it— oh ! how nice —
how nice it is. Oh ! rook me — rock me — rock
me, mother. I am too tired to say my prayer.<
to-night, mother; let me sleep, mother, and
kiss me, ])ut let me sleep — sleep — sleep — sleep ! ''

And she closed her eyes and slept, but she
never awoke ! — Toronto Xews.

The Unbolted Door.

An aged widow sat alone

Beside her fading hearth,
Her silent cottage never heard
The ringing laugh of mirth.
Si.x children once had sported there — but now

the churchyard snow
Fell softly on five little graves that were not
long ago.

122

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

She niouriu'd tlictn all with patient love,

Hut Hiiioe, lu'.r oycs i\iul uli 'il
Far hitttirt-r toar.s tluin thoHu wiiich dewctl
'i'liu fucct* of tliu (luiul.
The cliild which hiiil been spared to hor: her

<livrliii),' of licr pride, —
The woeful mother lived to wish that she had
also died.

Those little ones beneath the snow,

She well knew wliero they are,
"(JloHe giithered to the throne of (iod,
And tliat was better far."
Ihit when she thought where Katie was, she

saw the city's glare,
The painted niaak of bitter joy that Need gives
sin to wear.

Without, the snow lay thick and white,

No step had fallen there:
Within, she sat beside her fire,
Each tiiought a silent prayer:
When suddenly behind her seat, unwonted noice

she heard,
As thongl' a hesitating hand the rustic latch
had stirred.

She turned — and there tlie wanderer stood
With snow-flakes on her hair:

A faded woman, wild and worn,
The ghost of something fair.

.And then upon tlie mother's breast the witli-

I'lcd brow was laiil,
"(."an God and you forgive me all, for I have

sinned," she said.

The willow dropped upon her knees,

Uefore the fading fire,
An,i tliankcil the Lord whose lovo at laat
Had granted her ilesire.
The daughter kneeled beside her, too— tears

streaming from her c^yea,
And prayed, "(lo<l help me to be good to
mother, ere she dies. "

They did not talk about the sin,

The shame, the bitter woe :
Tliey spoke about tl.ose little graves,
Aiul things of long ago.
Ai:d then the daughter raised her eyes and

asked in tender tone,
" Why ''"d you keep your door unbarred, when
you were all alone '!"

" My child," the widow said, and smiled,

A smile of love and pain,
' ' I kept it so, lest you should coma
And turn away again !
I've waited for you all the while, — a mother's

love is true :
Yet it is but the shadowy type of His who died

for you !"
— A tithorof "Occnpalions of a Retired Life." tic.

VI. WAIFS AND THEIR CHRISTMAS.

Little Waifs with Wondering Eyes.

" Merry, merry Christmas everywhere,
Chcsrily it ringeth through the air,"
fiang the children full of glee,
(Jath'ring round the Christmas tree ;
Sang, as only children sii.g,
Whose young hearts are light and free.
List !— the anthem higher rings —
" Christ was born for me."

" Merry, merry Christmas everywhere,'
Floats tlie song upon the breeze —
1! caches ears that never heard
Of such a thing as " Christmas trees."
Two street waifs with wond'ring eyes -
Two of brown and two of blue —
Greet the scene with glad surprise,
As they peer the church door through.

Standing on the wide door steps —
Someone left the door ajar —

Through the opening they can see
Glimpses of a tree afar.
Whose dark boughs are full of light.
Many presents from them swing ;
Dolls and playthings, such a sight,
As the room with rapture rings

.Six light figures, clad in white,
Gently trip the stage along.
And the listening audience
Bend to catch the children's song.
Out in the cold the glad refrain
Echoed afar, resounding again.
Reached the ears of the two little waifs,
Tired and huogry, though the winds blow,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to go.

Now, the door ajar was left, : ~~

One little push widens the cleft,
And entering in, they creep along,
Listening to the children's song.

WAIFS AND THEIIl CHRISTMAS.

123

Rapture, awe, ami sweet Burprise,
Itisuu from their wond'ring eyes.

Such ft room they'd never seen,
Ueuk'd ftnd filled with ChriHtinaH green,
While the glow the gas lights lent.
Through the roop-. their radiance sent.
White-robed forms went flitting by,
U'hile the songs rang merrily.

Little Nell, whose big blue eyes
(ireut the scene with nipt surprise,
Turned to Bill, who stootl amazed,
Itound about him, boy-like gazed :
" Bill, I b'lieve we've got to Heaven !
Is this the place the angels live in ?
Are them angels singing there.
With their waving golden hair ?

•• Bill, you know when mother died,
And we stood her grave beside —
Wished she woidd come back once more.
Kiss us as she did before —
That the sweet-voiced lady told
Of a shining place of gold ;
Where she said niother'd gone,
There to join the angels' song.

" Bill, I b'lieve we've found the place 1
Let us search to find her face :
There's a man that looks so kind —
P'raps our mother he would find."
When tlie gentleman turned round.
Two street waifs by him lie found,
Wond'ring, listened to tlieir tale ;
Marked their features wan and pale ;
Then he led them both along,
Breathless wait the happy throng ;
As he tells the talc of woe —
That ere this they did not know ;
What they had not thought before —
Orphans starving at their door.

'Neath the sod last month were laiil,
Two bright forms who late had played
In a home where Christmas cheer
Thrives and sparkles all the year.
As the saddened mother het.rs,
Marks the orphans' falling tears,
Seems a voice from Heaven to say :
"Jewels, these, I give this day ;
Take them in the place of those
Who My shining courts now rove ;
Tell to them the wond'rous story.
How the Lord of light and glory.
Long ago, one Christmas day.
In the Bethlehem manger lay."

So next morn when daylight beams —
Chasing night with shining wings —

Four bright eyes are opened wide,

Kneeling there, side by side.

Gratefully tlie sister, brotlier.

Thank God they have found a mother.

— iM'Uu liojcrs.
ORArroN, Ontario.

The Christmas Samaritan.

The shadows of even were falling fast

Over tlie drifted snow,
Gay liglits from the windows flicker and danced

On the busy crowd below.

'Twas Christmas Eve ! and the thoroughfares

Teemed with a motley throng.
Here one with his nciglibor bandied a jest.

There, whistled a snatch of song.

Crouchini;, I saw at the gateway dark,

A weary, a fearful sight.
Out of the whirl of the wayfarers all,

Out of the maddening light.

Two girls, or something in shape of them —
Heav'n knows how they came so low —

Huddled together for misery.
Trailing their rags in the snow.

There passed a seamstress, wasted and wan—

O God, there are angels still
Enshrined in the humblest, holiest forms.

Ready to do Thy will !

'Twas a hard, hard task for ihat workwoman

To keep body and soul together,
To find a crust for the hungry-fiend, -^

And a shed from the biting weather.

A moment — ah, true Samaritan,

Thou hast heard of the widow's mite ;

124

THE TORONTO HUMANK SOCIETY.

Thou hast not a htiiirt that I'an look ttninoved
At that jjulL'way, and uit that night!

Thi'ii hchi sliu forth licr traiiBparent palm,

With 111!!' hai'il-canuMl ptiiny fnc,
" I am poor, how poor, (ioil only knows,

Kut thou wanti^st it nioru than mo."

Moi'lianically took tho starving girl

l'"rom the blessc'tl HiHtur-hanil,
Thu copper coin that might match the golil—

Yes, the gold of tliis Christian land.

For it brought now life to a starving frame,

Though it only purcha8L'<l a roll ;
And it hrought a greater blessing than that,

New hope to a starving soul !

Her white lips moved, but never a word,

Never a word spoke she ;
Oh, woman, as thou to thy neighbor deal'st

Will God deal unto thee !

— Loiidnn Society.

The Roundsman's Christmas Story.

80 you're a writer, and you think I could
Tell you some story of the Christmas time —

Something that happened to myself, which you.
Having the rhynung knack, might put in

rhyme ?

Well, you are right. But of the yarns I mind
The most are best untold, they are so sad ;

My beat's the shadiest in town you know.
Amongst the very poor and very bad.

And yet from one of its worst places, where
Tliieves gather who go round with murd'rous
knives,

A blessing came one Christmas-day that brought
My wife and me the sunsiiine of our lives.

The night before, I had at last run down
Lame Jim, the captain of a river gang,

Who never had been caught, although his deeds
Were such that he deserved for them to hang.

And as he sprung upon the dock I sprung
Like lightning after him, and in a trice

Fell through a trap door, and went sliding
down
Upon a plank as slippery as ico.

I drew my pistol as I slid, and when

I struck the earth again, " Hands up !" I
cried ;
"I've got you now," and at the same time
flashed
The light of a dark lantern every side.

I'd landed in a big square room, but no
[,.ami) .lini nor any other rough was there ;

But from some blank<!ts spread upon the lloor
A child looked up at me with wond'rin,i{
stare—

A little girl, with eyes that shone like stars,
A sweet, |)ale face, and curly, gohlen head.
"Why did you come so fast? You woko mo
up.
And scared mo too," in lif;ping words she
said,

" But now I am not scared for I know you.
You're Santa Claus. My stocking's on the
wall.
I wish you merry Christmas. Where's my
toys ?
1 hope you've brought a lovely cup and ball."

I never was so taken 'back. I vow ;

And while I speechless stood, Jim got away.
" Who are you, pretty one?" at last I asked.

" I ? Don't you know ? Why, I am little
May.

" My mother died the other night, and went
To Heaven ; and Jim, my father, brought mo
here.

It isn't a nice place : I'm 'fraid of it,
For everything's so lonely and so queer.

" But I remembered it was Christmas-eve,
Anil hoped you'd find mo, though I thought
because

Tlicre was no chimney you might not. But oh !
I'm glad yon did, dear Mr. Santa Claus."

Well, Captain Jim escaped — the law, I mean.
But not a higher power : ho was drowned.

And on his body near his heart, poor wretch,
The picture of his baby girl was found.

And that dear baby girl went home with me.
And never was a gift more precious given ;

For childless had that homo been many years,
And so she seemed sent to it straight from
heaven.

God's ways are wonderful. From rankest soil
There often grows a flower sweet and bright.

But I must go, my time is neai-ly up.

A merry Christmas co you, and good-night.

— Anon.

Christmas Outside the Bars.

'Tis Christmas tide, and roundabout the tinsel-
tricked poor-stores,

The wandering urchins clad in rags crowd
round their open doors

\VI

Ar.

WAIB'S AND TIKIR CHRISTMAS.

126

The ruin may full in torrents, the bitter blast I beliovo in little children j it's as nloe to hear

iiiii.y free/.o, thoiii road

^■(•t I'.ttio rock yo of the Btorm — your baljos And to wantliT round the rauuh at noon and bco

aro L'ouchud in down, , tho uuttlu fucd.

Or dancu around thuir Cliristniag Tree, whilst , .

yu, Btrctched out at case,
Know littlu, and care less, about the children
of the town.

Wliere go tlicHu littlu Arabs, as tho lungthuniug
houPM tly,
And Hhuttui'H hide tho wondrous toys and
jiarti-coliircd Hweots?
Around the ruMi-nliop thrcBliolds, where light
seems warmth they lie
And bog and htoal from drunken sots that
stagger tlirougli tiie streets.

'I'lioir iiomes ! Go see the tenement whore
poverty doth dwell,
Whore Hcjualor, vice, and infamy are mixed
witii honest toil ;
High rentM, dark rooms, vile lauguage, and a

dckeuing, horrid smell, •

Wliere one poor score might fairly breathe, ^ ^^^^^^ ^ teWow'a praying when he's down
a hundred make turmoil. „p„„ ,,ig knoes-

The woman-wan, faint-hearted, weak ; a drab, " I:>'i8much as you have done it to" one of tlic

The pulpit's but a manger where the pews are

Gospel -fed.
And they say 'twas to a manger that tho .Star

of Glory led.
So I'll subscribe a dollar toward tho manger ami

the stalls ;
I always give the best I've got whenever my

partner calls.
And, stranger, let me tell you, I'm beginning to

suspect
Tliat all the world are partjjers, whatever their

creed or sect ;
That life is a kind of pi'^. image, a sort of

Jericho road,
And kindness to one's fellow's the sweetest law

in tho code.

or shrewish scold ;

least of these. '

No pure fresh air to stir her blood and give ^ "^""W *•'« ^*"'«'^«' stranger, so you needn't stop
her heart relief. ^ <!»"*<' '•

The Hum-no smile to warm his love, flics It's a different thing to know them or to say

wliere vile rum is sold.
And drinks witli thieves till he becomes a
bully, sot, or thief.

( )li ! Life is sweet with liberty, with hope, with
competence.
With loving wife, with tender bairns, with
soul devoid of wrong,
AVith Christ's sweet love to guide your steps,
with God for your defence ;
.So blessed, the weak have mighty strciigtli,
the strong-minded, strong ;

lUit wo, behind these prison bars, are in dull
agony.
To think each child of rags and shame must
tread the path we trod.
Help, Christians ! Save the children from the
fatal gallows tree,
So blessed by thy Christinas, so honored by
thy God !

— W. M., an Inmate of Sing Sing.

"Inasmuch."

them oiF by rote.
I'll tell you where I lear.ied them if you'll step

in from the rain ;
'Twas down in 'Frisco, years ago ; bad bcc.i

there hauling grain ;
It was near the city limits, and I remember the

saloon.
With grocery, market, baker siiop, bar-room

all in one.
And this made up the picture — my hair was

not then grey.
But everything still seems as real as if 'twere

yesterday.
A little girl with haggard face stood at the

counter there.
Not more than ten or twelve at most, but worn

witli grief and care ;
And her voice was kind of raspy, like a sort of

chronic cold —
.Just the tone you find in children who are pre

maturely old.
She said : " Two bits for >)rcad and tea. Ma

hasn't much to eat ;

I'ou say that you want a meetin'-house for the She hopes next week to work again, and buy us

boys in the gulch up there. all some meat.

And a Sunday school with pictur' books ? Well, We've been half starved all winter, but spring

put me down for a share, will soon be here,

126

THK TORONTO HUMAN!': SOCIKTV.

Anil ill!) tollM lift, ki «)n up courage, for Ood i» Tint's u ('hristiium nt n-y, Ntr!in.{pr, whii;h I

iilwiiyn iii'iir,"
■liiMt tliim a ilo/iii iiii'ii ciiiiir in ; tlio l)oy wiih
calloil iiwiiy.

Iiiit tliu poor, tirt'il ^iv\ Mitt wikitiii^;, loMt at Iit:;t

to rcvflrt ilcrp,
(III a ki>g lioMido u hari'vl in tlio corner, fust

Well, I Htooil tlii'i'c, Hort of mutiny, until mdiiiu

oiiu at till' Itar
Said, "Hello 1 1 May, stran;^! r, what havu you

ovur tliar ?"
TIk! lioy then tt)lil her Mtoiy, ami that crew i>o

licrii' iiiid wild,
(jrew ii.tt'iit and Mt'inned to li -.ton to tlio bruatli-

ing of the child,
riie j,'taMHes all were low(!red. Said tho louder:

" l$r>yM, Nee here ;
All day we've been pouring whinkey, drinking

deep our ChriMtnuiM cheer.
Here'H two dollara— I've got li-iiingM which are

not entiiely dead -
For this little girl an 1 inothcr Mull'eiing for the

want of bread."
"Here's a dollar;" "here's another." And

tlicy all clii))j)ed in their share.
Ami they planked the ringing metal down upou

tho eouiiter there.
Then tlm spokeMinun took ag.ilden double-eagle

from his belt.
Softly stepped from bar to counter and beside

the sleeper knelt ;
Took tho " two bits" from her fingers, changetl

her silvc ])iece for ^old.
" See there, boys; the girl is dreaming." Down

her cheeks tho tear drops rolled.
One by one the fcwurthy ininer-s passed in silence

to tlie stii'ct.
(iontly we a'.voke tin- sleeper, but she started to

her feet
With a da/.ed ai>': ■ ..< .nge expression, saying,

" Oh, I thongiii twas trui^ I
Ma was well, and we were happy ; niwiid our

door-stone roses grew ;
We had everything we wanted, food enough

and clothes to wear ;
And my hand burns where an angel touched it

soft witii lingers fair."
As she h)oked and saw the money in her fingers

glistening l)riglit,
" Well, now, ma has long been praying, lait slie

won't believe ino quite.
How you've sent 'way up to heaven, where the

golden treasures arc.
And have also got an angel cleiking at your

grocery bar. "

thought you'd like to liuar ;
Tine to fact and huinaii nature, [lointing nut

one's duty cdear.
Hence to matters of MiibMcription you will rod

that I'm alive ;
■III )t III vrk otr that dollar, atrunger ; I think I'll

m ike it live.

- Wullare liriire, in //arptr'n Maynziii'.

The Christmas Anthracite.

Ho left a load of aiitlilaiite

In front of a jioor woman's door.
When the deep snow, fro/.eii and white,
Wra|iped ntreet and scjiiare, inoiintain ainl
moor.

That was his deed ;

He did it well ;
" What was hin .reed?"
I cannot tell,

I'dcssed "in his basket and in his store,"

In sitting ilowii and in rising u|i ;
When nioic he got he gave the mons
Wiliiliolding not tho crust and cup.
He took the lead

In each good task.
" W hat was his creed?"
1 (iid not ask.

His charity was like tlie mow.

Soft, white and silent in its fail !
Not like the noisy winds that blow

From shivering trees the leaves ; ii pall
For tlower and weed,

Driioping belo«'.
" What was ills ciceil ?"
Tlie poor may know.

He had great faitli in loaves of bread,

For liungiy peo]i'„- young and tdd.
And liope iii.-^jiired, kind words he said
To those he sheltered from the cold.
For we must feed
As well a.s pray.
" What was his creeil?"
I cannot say.

In words he did not |)ut his trust,

His faith in words he never writ,
He loveil to share his cup and cru.st
With all mankind who needed it.
In time of need

A friend was he,
" Wiiat was his creed ?"
He told not nie.

— Anon.

DIUNK AND ITS SAD STORY.

lu;

VII. DRINK AND ITS SAD STORY.

Al nino tenth* of th<i hoitouk of wiiif lif<' urn to illu»liati' tlio tuiiililr f,u;t tliat no in.-iny
Wrought ultoiit by tlio lUmioii of ill ink, a fuw limiuu liiv desolatod, iiiul so iiiuiiy liv«» ur«
t.klt'H ami xtoiiuM arc iiiHorti-il in tliis [>iil>lii.utloii liopolognly wreckoil liy it.

Nobody's Girl. This sutforing child has had much to en-

dure,
.Slie stands near the doorway, so ragged .md For she tells of tiie past in its sorrowful

poor, guise.

And begs for a crust with her soft pleading The night wind is col<l, and, shivering and
eyes ; pale,

128

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Tliis waif of the streets— the slave of a And nobody's gir', with ti^'cil, uorn feet,

churl —
Must beg for existence, not daring to fail,
For the drunkard at lioiue will beat uobody's
girl.

Yes, nobody's girl — nobody's child;

For parents are ikud, and friends she has
r'lne,
No wonder her a¥p"('t is ragged atnl wild ;
No wonder siic dr.iops, for lier sunshine is
gone.
No father is nigh her to pet and caress ;
No mother to draw this lone child to her
breast ;

Must trudge in the cold — how cruel, how
.sad !

And often at night when t'?e day's work is
•'.one.
And the poor stricken waif has begged all in
vain.
She'll sit by the roadside, and tears, one by one,
Will course down her cheeks and tell of her
pain.
She dreads going honiewanl, she knows wliat
is there.
And shrinks from the blows that has oft left
their scar.

And when it is bedtime there's one praver the She ran away once, but now wouldn't dare.

less,

For no one has whisnore<l of God but in jest.

She is yet but a ohrld — not yet in the snare
That hangs o'er her head, but awaiting the
years ;
For tlio demon at home, once a woman so fair.
Will drive he/ iiliroad spite her protests and
tears.
As yet she must beg and whine in the street;
Thc'e's money to get, and rum must be had;

For she'd soon be unearthed by the liounds
from afar.

And so must the weary one go to her
work.
For perhaps there'a a penny to gain yet
this night ;
There's a form in tiie distance, and she
must not shirk,
So the tears must bo dried and not dim
her sight.
Oh, turn not away from thii waif in the
street !
For you in ^our homes have some
treasure, some pearl,
Vou love as your life, niaking home so
complete.
So smile on the homeless one — no-
body's girl !

AllOH.

Cardinal Manning on Depravity in
London.

The Toronto Catholic Wtekly Kcww
of May 2f) 1888, contains a vivid pic-
ture of London depravity, by Cardinal
.Manning. lOii page 83 will also be found
a siniilar sketch of London life by Arch-
deacon Farrar.) Among other things
the Cardinal said :

"Of tne 4,000,000 of London not one
half will any day of t'le whole year set
a foot in a;iy place of Divine worship,
or where tliey can hear the simplest
teacliings of nio.'ality, not revealed only, but of
nature. And what is the result? Hundreds or
thousands arc living a living death sunk in tiie
dcptlis of mortal sin. . . . All along the streets
are the places of drink, glaring all night with
the gaslight. ... In the matter of intoxica-
ting drink, of this I am (irmly conviiiced, that
it is the mos' active, the most powerful, iind
the most successful of all the enemies of souls ;
for it is not one sin, but ail siu."

Til

wl
ul

wl
aJ

■

DRINK AND ITS SAD STORY.

129

The Policeman and the Lost Child.

1 am a policenian, '204 ;

l)eon oil the force for years a score.

Lots of btories I have to tell,

Queer, sad, terrible, funny, and^well,

I'll stop to tell you a little tiling

Tiiat happeaed a year ago last Spring.

Woary, but watchful, I paced my beat.
Up and down thro" a well-known street,
When, a block away, I saw a throng,
And hasten'd to see what was wion^'.
There I found a wee, wee girl,
I )irtnty a.id pretty, fair hair hi carl^

Weeping, her hands in c.a- she toss'd.
Crying, "Oh, m>' r.nia, oli, papa, I's loss !"
One tnomen*" ^ne wept, another slie smiled.
And I thought of my own pst darling child
At home, and safe in her mother's arms;
So I tried to quiet this one's alarms ;
At first her sunny head I caress'd.
Then lifted her up to my beating breast,
And carried her. 8<^'>l,ing, sweet little fay.
To the station house, only two blocks away.

l^aptain Caffry was then in command ;
lie took the lost baby-girl by the hand.
And, sitting her up on tlie desk by liis uide,
I'lcLisantly talked till no longer she cried,
Uut dried up her tears, and soon, smiling and

Was earnestly lisping and prattling away ;
Ai"i told of lier beautiful mamma, her joys.
Her big-bearded papa, her home and her toys ;
How she heard a wandering German band play
And, listening, followed them on their way ;
Stcpp'd when they stopp'd, and cross'd when

they cross'd,
(irew tired, cried for home, and then found she

was 'ost

Tlie door of the scation house open'd just then,
A.linitting a "drunk" between two of our men;
N .t dirty and ragged, and spoiling for a fight,
lint what you might term a "respectable tight."
Ixd up to the desk, he just lifted his eyes.
Started back, nearly fell, with a cry of surprise,
l)f terror, of shame ; " My Orace ! Can it be?"
The inutaut had ina<lc him as sober as bhe.
" My papa ! Dear papa !" Tney kissed and

caressed,
I'oth weeping, as she nestled close to his breast,
" (>uitr, a scene !" said the Captain, his face in

a glow ;
" I think you've been punished enough. You

may feO !"

The father bowed low — the little one smiled —
And hu pass'd through the door In the care of

his child .
Do you know that I feel that I made a great

vow

Just then, against liquor, and 'tis unbroken

now " A

— Anon

The Newsboy— "Only an Accident!"

Living month after month in a large and
populous city, one seldom stops to think : How
are other people living ?

With a thought of tiiis kind, I wandered
down one day to one of the large wharves of
our city, where several steamers and other
craft were being loaded and unloaded. Every-
where was activity and bustle, and all was in
seeming confusion, until one looked carefully
ar0i._.d, and, in a measure, analyzed the scene
which here presented itself. Numberless bar-
rels, rolled one after another by numberless
pairs of hands, came out of one of the steamers,
and filled up quickly all the available space
on the wharf !

Just over there, on the edge of the wharf,
other men are taking out empty boxes from
another vessel, and piling them up one abovt^
the other. They looked as if they were erect-
inj< impromptu defences against the encroach-
ments of the barrels, they build up so rapidly.

One of the Bteamers has stopped " blowing
oft," and is ready to start. In a moment the
cord from the wheel-house to the whistle
vibrates., and a deafening noise is the result.
It is the signal to leave. That boat makes
close connections with two rival railways, and
is very i ist. She is crowded with passengers
to-day. See there, upon the upper deck a
gentleman is standing with two ladies ; he is
beckoning to some one on the wharf. It is not
hard to see who l.e is calli' „'. In and oul
among the boxes and barrels, jumping ovei
everything that obstruct.s him, tlmmgh the
crowd of bystanders with iiuirvellous rapidity
glides a small ragged figure, carrying news-
papers. Refore the boy gets to the boat, the
gangways are drawn in, at least the aft gang-
way is, and the other is just being moved. He
springs on board, but is stopped by one of tile
"hands." He brenks away from his captor,
and is oir up stairs. As he does so, the gong in
the engine-room sounds twice, and the huge
wheel begins slowly to turn, splashing and
throwing the dark, dirty water of the dock
into a thousand shining gems, as the great
vessel glides off with innumerable figures,

Ail

130

THE TORONTO HUMAN K SOCIETY.

its creaking fenders, and its dripping ropes.
That little fellow will be carried away — No !
there he is again — surely he can easily jump
that (Uhtance ; lint lie is again stopped by one
of the "hands" who caught him aa he was
going in, Init only for a moment, then he steps
back, makes a sudden run and j\imps — ho
misses tiie wharf, and down beneatli that
splashing, dripping, resistless wheel, lie sinks in
the blinding, white, llowi'ig foam that seems to
boil and bubble and hiss at the wheel. Seveial
men rus'i to the side of the wiiarf, and several
run to 111! side of the boat. All is confusion.
. . . The white foam, spaikling in the sun,
turns to the dark, muddy water again, as a little
head shows above its suiface. There he is.
Oh, ([uijk or you will be too late ! A scow,
unsteadily rowed by an old man, is the first of
aevtral lioats to come, and as quickly as the
old man can do it (but he is very slow), the
poor boy is lifted out of the water. .Several
willing hands reach out and take him from the
scow and carry him under a shed out of the
sun, and lay him on the top of some of the
merchandise, for there is no nearer shelter.
His tattered garments, dripping with water,
are takeii olF, and he is wrapped in a piece of
old canvas while medical aid is sent for.

"The paddle-whtel must have struck his
head," says a sympathizing person. "He
shouldn't have gone on when the boat was
starting,' says a cynical one. Well, perliaj s
he shouldn't ; but this is not the time to up-
br.iid him. How few of as ever stop to consider
the motive for the infinity of actions which are
going on around us all the time. That little
right hand clasped so tightly may help us to
understand him, poor boy, if we can only read
aright. At length he openi his eyes and asks,
" Wiiere am I ?" It were a charity to tell him
he is near another world ; but he knows that.
He opens his eyes again, clear blue eyes they
arc. "Tell me, my poor little fellow," I say,
"what made you go ..ii board just as the boat
was starting?" A strange ((uestion at such a
time. "Cos father's drunk and mother's sick,
and if I didn't got it for 'em iiobody'd get it,"
he replies, slowly and painfully. " Is it going
to rain?" he asks. "No, my boy, the sun is
shining briglitly." "It is getting so dark.*^
He closes his eyes wearily for some time, and
then slowly opens tlifin again " Will some-
body give this to mother — in my hand ?" Yes,
in that hand, clasped so tightly, is the last
earnings he will ever get. Time is passing ; but
the doctor has not come yet. "Do you know that
you can't see your mother again tonight ? ' I

ask, as kindly as I can. Yes, he knows that,

poor child H;, ,i|eaka aguiu. Tell fatiici

not to get drunk, cr mothtr will die. I'm eo
cold— it must be going t( rair— dark." The
reply, full of tender words of pity and hope,
fall only on a dull, cold ear. Alone in the
shadow, under a projecting eve, lies a motion-
less tigure. The light from the water throws
fantastic figures upon the wall, which *loat and
dance, and glide about, miniicking the restless
v/ater, but they come not into that deep shadow
to disturl) him.

The doctor comes now, but can do nothing.
Nor can ony of the watchers do anything for
him now, except unclasp his little hand, ami
take the hard-earned pence for his mother.
How very tightly his hand is clasped about the
coppers. " Why did ho not let go the money
and try to save himself?" Why not? Alas!
A child of a drunken father, and, at that age,
the bread-winner of a fpnily ! How could he
let any of the meai(s of ti . ippoi-tgo? How-
dare he let it go? u ch..^., and yet feeling the
responsibility resting upon him, must even die
before he can lose the only means of support
for a worse than widowed mother. He died ;
but he has kept his trust l—G S, H., in Canu-
Uian MoiUhly, December, 1S80,

"My Papers Will You Buy, Sir?"

At the corner of tl'.i! sticet

Wh 're tl e \% ind strikes rougii and rude,
I'm afraid '^'le's ha.l to meet

Fates she scarce hath understood.
For her infant eyes from under
Steals a mute surprise and wonder.

As, if in her gentle mind,

Siie was busy reasoning why
Mankind should be thus unk ui

And so rudely thrust her by.
Has she then done wn ng? Why, let lie
Know; she would do to much better.

Then she lifts a timid eye,

Then she raised her baby face,
So timidly, so falt'ringly.

Yet with such a gentle grace.
Is it this way you would have ?
"Sir, my papers will you buy?"
But they roughly said her nay j
And they rudely held their wiiy.

For they knew not, little maio.
As they lie('d(!d not your prayer,

Nor the bitter tears you shed,
That the woe of Christ was there.

DRINK AND ITS SAD STORV.

vr.i

knows that,

die. I'm so
dark." The
y and hope,
Uono iu tlie
ies a motion-
k^ater throws
icli <loat and
; the reatlesis
leep sliadow

do notiiing.
.nytliing for
i hand, and
his mother,
id about tlie
) the money
lot '! Alas !
at that age,
)w could he
•t go ? How
; feeling the
1st even die

of support

He died ;

r., in Caiiu-

Sir?"

1 and rude,

cod.

lor.

y, let lie
3ttcr.

ere,

Christ with you, they utterly
Forgot th:it day they thrust you by.
— //. St. Q. Cayley, in the ' Varsity Book.
ToiiONTO, 1885.

Lost and Found In the Storm.

Walk in, walk right in, you're welcome;

Whew ! how the wind wliistles about.
Take a chair close to the fire, sir;

It's a bad sort o' nighi to be out.
You saw our light through the darkness

And thought you would come ? That id right.
Somehow my h it's warmer and softer

On ev'ry such olust'riu' night.

Here, take a good drink from the bottle,

'Twill warm you. You won't? Why not?
You look like you're needin' o' somethiu',

And tills is the best I've got.
Well, wife, just you get out some victuals,

And niake a strong cup of tea,
,Vnd while she's a-gettin' 'em ready.

You'll take a good smoke with me?

That's right, it seems kind o' friendly

And brotherly like, I think -
15y th' way, stranger, 'tisj'/t often

That a man refuses to drink !
But just as you like. Hear the wind, sir,

A tearin' like all p.sses-sed,
As though all the demons o' darkness

Were troubled and couldn't rest.

You seem sort o' pale like and nervous.

Your walk was too much, I think ;
Come to look, you're white as a ghost, sir;

Seoms to me you'd better drink.
Well, well I won't urge you, but really—

Wliat's that you're sayin' — this niglit
With its storm makes you think of another

And the nv.m'ry saddens you quite?

It must ha' been somethin' dreadful

To make you so tremble, I think ;
You don't say, you lost wife and baby

And all through the demon o' drink ?
I own I thought it was queer like.

For 'most ev'ryone drinks, you knov,-,
And I couldn't see why the tearin'

0' the storm should trouble you so.

Mayhap if you'd tell me the story,

'Twould ease up your mina a bit.
'Twas just such a night as this cue —

'Tain't likely I'll ever forgit —
Th:it our blessing came, and somehow

When the wiud and storm are abroad.

There's a queer kind o' feelin' in here
A sort o' thanksgivin' to God.

I don"t take much stock in goodness.

Can't say I believe much in hell ;
Love God? Why bless you, sir, sometimea

My thoughts are too precious to tell.
When the long day's work is over.

And I sit by the fire at niuht—
What's that you were sayin' ? Oh, surely

I couldn't ha' heard you aright.

I wasn't more'n half way listcnin' —

I's thinkin' o' Dolly, you see.
Did you say that your wife went somewhere.

And you dropped in after tea ?
That she went home kind o' early ;

But they urged you to stay a spell.
You told her you'd bring the baby,

A-id see 'twas bundled up well ?

At last the wine you'd be'n drinkin'

Had somehow got into your head ;
The wind and the storm were dreadful

Wlien you started for home, you said?
See here, stranger, 'twasn't near Alta,

Just five years ago to-night ?
I'm thinkin' o' that place always.

So I couldn't a' heard you aright.

It was ? And the baby you held it

And staggered on through the snov,',
Y'our brain growin' drowsy and dizzy ;

And that is the last you know
Of that night and the storm, till some one

F"ound you there crazy and wild,
And carricil you home; but surely

Now, didn't they find the child ?

No? well, I might 'a' known it

From the first somethiu' told me 'twiis so.
You say some wild beast had got it,

There were tracks all about in the snow,
Stranger, see here, if a fellow,

A poor sort o' fellow, you see.
Found a purse of gold that its owner

Thought he had lost in the sea,

And then he f'lould meet with that owner,

Uo you think it would be a sin
Just to keep it, when he who lost it

Thought never to see it again ?
You do ? Well, go on with your story.

Your wife ? Might 'a' known she went wild
And told you not to come nigh her

Again till you brought back her child.

Five years sad-hearted and lonely.
Five years you've be'n wand'rin' about.

132

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Ah, well ! to me they've be'n happy ;

Yes, wife, go bring dciii- Dolly out.
I see my way clear to duty,

When slie's riglit here on my iiiiec,
Her white arnm ulingin' ahout me,

I'lV a little faint-iiearted you see.

Come here, little Doliy, i.iy baby,

(jive daddy one more kiss, and then
I'm a better man than without her

I oould ever hope to 'a' be'n.
Now here is my story, don't cry, wife.

It's tougli, but it's right, you know,
That night, sir, ridin' from Alta,

I was cursin' tlie wind and snow.

When my horse stumb'ed r'ght over something.

And wlien I got oil" to see,
'Twas a dead man, leastways I tliought so,

Ami a child that smiled at me.
I unbui,:cued my coat and laid it

In hei.i away from the storm.
And somehow, from tliat very minit,

My heart's be'n soft- like an' warm.

We were comin' west, so we kept it:

'Twan't ours, and we might 'a' known
We'd some day get punished for keepin'

The gold that wasn't our own;
And while you were tellin' your story

The I^evil kept whisperin' to me
" Don't tell him; he never will know it;

He thinks tlie child dead, you see."

]5ut I just had to— that baby

With iier cute ways has changed nie quite:
Once I didn't care a copper, sir.

If a tiling were wrong or right.
But now — well, here is your baby ;

Her loss cured you of your sin.
Lost in the storm, the storm drove you

Riglit here to find her again.

— /I'osc //. Thorpe, Authoresa of " Cur/eto
Mtial Not liinij To niij/it."

" Robbie, Taste Not, Touch Not Drink."

I spied a boy one evening cold

Creeping 'neath wrecked frame, bare and old,

1 'awing like bear 'mong ice and snow

While tlirough his rag.s chill winds did blow.

I paused, I wondered what iiis meaning.

He shivering rose, and saiil : "Good evening,

Oh, kind, good sir, please papers buy."

I (juestioned, thus he made reply :

" With drink pa oft came out his head.

Then ma and me down in tliere lied.

One night ma sick liade me good-bye.

Next morn was dead, with babe did lie.

'J'hon pa hard tried past s'loon to get

When, oh so kind, called me his pet.

One night, when bad, he i li(>Ued for breath,

Called, '(iod forgive me mother's death.'

He gasped, then stared and ceased to wink,

Said, ' Robbie, taste not, touch not drink.'

I lield his hands till cold as ice,

Motlier long dead, thouglit she called twice.

Ran to that gate, a man stood there ;

Was kind ; held me, and then said prayer.

1 pa|iers ."ell and hand round bills.

Rut with scant clothes, my heart it chills,

'J'hese rags I s'pose keep me from place,

That I'm not good most people guess."

I'oor soul he got my little all,

We parted ; told him next day call.

I watched him creep beneath the beams,

And spent that night with him in dreams.

— Anvil, in Toronto Tiliijrdui.

Paul's Temptation, and its Consequences.

The dreadful reality which the pictures in
this chapter show is, airs ! far too common.
It would harrow the feelings of the reailer to
give details of an actual case. The Editor,
therefore, contents himself witii giving an ex-
tract from a French prize poem, which sutli
eiently illustrates the sad tale of the pictures.
M. de Fontaubert, the writer of this poL'm, en-
titled " L'lvresse," received a bronza medal
from the French Temperance Society, Paris.
The poem was published in La Timpo'ance,
and extracts, as translated, are given : —

One morning Paul was going to his work.
Right glad ; when, at the corner of the street,
He tinds a comrade. "Ah !" the latter says,
" At length I see you ! No, I cannot be
Mistaken! 'Tis my playmat( ' Happy fate.
To meet an old friend of my childhood's year.s!
Let's tirst a turn along the l)oulevard take,
And then we shall have breakfast and good
cheer."

To his old friend, Paul yields not for a while.
" No, I have pressing work to do," he said.
"Tut, nonsense! You can stay a, short time

out ;
'Tis Monday ; don't so sober-minded be.
What, with an old chum, won't you have a

drink ?
We shan't be long ; an hour is all I :isk,
I do assure you, much of you I think
If you refused me ! As I live, you'll come I'

DRINK AND ITS SAD STORV.

133

The workman, giving way, says, " Well, let's

go;

\'ou ask an hour ? Agreed. Hut mind, no

more !
For old ac(iuaiutance and good fellowship,
\Ve"H have a drop, and then return to work."
Then hands tliey shake and to the tavern f.'o,
They chat, and eat, and laugh, and drink of

wine.
One bottle, then a second, then a third.
Their thirst increasing as they drink, I ween !

Alas! th' unhappy man, the first wrong step
Ha» taken, and soon this step leads on to gross

excess.
He drinks to drown remorse ; he hates to work;
And, even if he tried, his strength was gone.
Wine does not satisfy — he needs a drink
Which brings forgetfulness, and burns his

throat.
He now the strongest brandy madly iiuafTs,
And curses home with daily drunkenness!

Livid, emaciated, rose his wife —

Her body showing many deathly signs -

And earnest gazeil upon his wine-blotched face.

" r^ook at your children ! They are starving !
Both they an<l I are supperless to-night
And last. Heboid them ! Wherefore come you
here?"

He, seized with anger, an<l, with \ipraised fiat,
Strikes his wife down witli oft repeated blows.

Next day were found the two poor little ones
Kneeling in tears, beside their mother's corpse;
And in a corner lay, with features worn.
And fixed ami haggard eye, their father low.
His lips were muttering, with departing

strengtl).
These words, repeated still unceasingly —
"My wife! Mycliildren! Cup of death ! of

death ! "-
He was insane !— All" this does drunkenness !

have a

One night Paul to bis wretched liomc returned,
Hurst in the door where wife and ciiildren
cower.

Their faces spoke despair and misery,
And bore the impress of misfortune sore.

"My Last Glass, Boys!"

No, thank you, not any to-night,

boys, for me,
I have drank my last glass, I iiavc

had my last spree ,
Vou may laugh in my face, you

may sneer, if you will,
r>iit I've taken the pledge, and I'll

keep it until
I am Inid in tlic church-yard and

sleep 'neath the grass,
And your sneers cannot move nie

— I've drank my last glass.

Just look at my face, I am thiit''

to-day.
It is wrinkled and hollow, my
hair has turned grey,
And tlio' light of my eye that once brilliantly

siione,
And the bloom of my cheek, both are vanished

and gone ;
I am young, but the furrows of sorrow and care
Are stamped on a brow once with innocence fair.

"Come, come!" the drunkard, as he entered, Ere manhood its seal on my forehead had set,

cried : (And I think of the past with undying regret)

(Jet up, and give me sometliing here to cat ! I was honored and loved by the good and the

I'm thirsty! Get me brandy ! Will you stir? true,

Rise, quickly ! Come, now ! People must be- For sorrow, nor shame, nor dishonor I knew,

''^^^ But the tempter approached me — I yielded and

They're not to put themselves about when I fell,

come here !" And drank of the dark, damning poison of hell.

134

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Since then I have trod in the pathway of sin ;

And bartered my soul to the demon of gin ;

Have Bquandercd my manhood in riotous glee,

While my parents, heartbroken, abandoned l)y
me.

Have gone down to the grave, filled with sor-
row and shame,

Witli a sigii for the wretch that dishonored
their name.

God's curse on the glass! nevtr-
more shall my li|)

Of the fatal and soul-burning bev-
erage sip ;

Too long has the fiend in my bos' m
hold sway ;

Hoticefcrth and forever I spurn
him away ;

And never again shall the death-
dealing draught

By me, from this hour, with (ioJ's
blessing, be quailed.

So good-night, boys; I thank you,

no liquor for me ;
I have drank my last glass, I have

had my last spree ;
You may laugh in my face, you

may sneer, if you will ;
But I've taken the pledge, and I'll

keep it until
I am laid in the church-yard and

sleep 'neatii the grass;
And your sneers cannot move me

—I've drank my last glass.
— Wm. Collins, in Irinh World,

Terrible Surprise of a Mother.

The Evavgelical Churchman,
Toronto, of May 31st, 1888, gave
an account of the origin of the
Church of England Temperance
Society. The Editor of this publi-
cation gives the substance of the sad story
which led to its formation : —

This woeful story appeals to us, as it did
to Canon Ellison, the founder of the Society.
He was then staying at Windsor, and saw a
child being carried on a shutter to tlie hospital.
On making inquiries, he ascertained that the
poor little thing had been waiting outside of a
gin shop for her father. This so enraged him,
when he came out drunk, that he beat her
so severely that she was rescued and taken to
the hospital. A little girl, older than herself,
had seen her waiting at a lamp post, and tried

to get her to go home, lest she should arouse her
father's anger when lie would come out. Canon
Ellison proceeded to the hoHpital, and, on arriv-
ing there, found that the child was dead. Sud-
denly a terrible shriek was heard. It came
from a charwoman, v.ho helped in the hospital
and who had been sent for to lay tlie little
thing out. She was its niother ! She had that

WAITINO FOR HER FATHER.

very morning left her little one j.laying about
as bright and happy as possible, and now was
summoned to prepare its corpse for burial !

It was this tragic incident that brought home
to Canon Ellison the awful curse of the drink
traffic, and led, through his influence and ex-
ertions, to the formation of that great Society
of the Church of England which is now doing
such incalculable good in the mother country
and elsewhe e. The result of this act of Canon
Ellison has been that parochial societies have
been established all over England, and in the
various dioceses of British North America.

SOLUTION OF SAD SOCIAL I'ROULEMS.

135

VIII. SOLUTION OF SOME OF THE SAD SOCIAL PROBLEMS
RAISED IN THE FOREGOING EXTRACTS.

" A namolesg n<-- ftiiiiil a crowd that thronged the daily mart,
L'lt full a wf ' hope o:id love, uiistudicil from Ihu heart ;
A whiupcr oi. l..v tumult, thrown— a transitory breath -
It raised a brother from the dust, It saved a soul from death.
O Kerm ! O fount I O word of love I O thoujfbt at random cast I
Ye were but little at the first, but mighty at the last."

— Charlen Maekiiy.

Some of tlie (juesti ms raised iu t'.ie forog'iing
extracts liave been, iiiore or less, siiccoMfully
colved iu Toronto, by the establiHhmcnt and
generous support of its numerous charities, and
its preventive and restorative in^^titut.ons.
There are other questions, however, whicli are
intensified in tiieir ciiaracter by the neglect or
omission to deal with them in time, and, conse-
quently, are rendered all the more difficult to
deal with now, anil tliey yet remain unsolved.

Some of them, at least, the Toronto Humane
Society are endeavorin'g to deal with in u piac-
tical and business like way — not permitting
mere sentiment, but ascertained and reliable
facts, to influence tliem in their action.

Conference with tha Mayor of Tcront .

In order the more efTectually to accomplish
their object, and to systematize the work before
them, the officers of the Humane Society, and
other friends of the cau.se, held a conference
■with Mayor Howland, early in the year 188S,
before he had retired from office.

The discussion at that conference naturally
took a wide range, as to the fijld of operatimis
of the Society. The Mayor entered heartily
into the matter. As the result of his two years'
practical knowledge of the darker side of waif
life in the city, he made many very valuable
suggestions.

The following, among other things, were dis-
cussed, and were sot down as matters which
were very desirable to have accomplished: —

L A temporary refuge for destitute and ne-
glected children, until they are disposed of, or
provided for.

2. The protection of children of drunken,
cruel and dissolute parents or guardians.

3. The prevention of young girls from engag-
ing selling newspapers, or smallwarea, on the
streets, or in offices.

4. The e: tablishment of a girls' industrial
school on the basis of that for boys at Mimico.

"). The desirability of having some oflicer
specially er, trusted with tlie duty of looking
after the waifs and strays of the city.

6. The punishment of child-beaters, and of
heartless parents a)"' guardians.

7. Enactments of, or amendments to, laws
relating to the foregoing matters ; and also to
the licensing, and police oversight, of boot-
blacks, and of vendors of newsjiapers and small
wares on the streets.

In order to interest the public in the pro-
motion of these desirable objects, a meeting
was held in the Association Hall, on Yonge
Street, in January, 1888. At that meeting ad-
drestes were delivered by various representa-
tive men on the following subjects :

1. Oljject and Claims of the Society, by Dr.
Hodgins, Chairman of the meeting.

2. Our Dumb Nobility, by Rev. Dr. Wild.

,3. Waifs of a Great City, by Mr. W. H. How-
land, ex-Maj'or.

4. Bands of Mercy, by llev. Dr A Suther-
land.

.'). Cruel Sports, by Rev. Dr. Castle.

6. "The Children's Home," and " The Chil-
dren of the City," were two songs by Mr. Fred
Warrington.

In the course of his remarks, Mr. Howland
strongly advocated the proposed scheme of
dtaling practically with the waifs and strays of
the city. He said :

" When I was in Chicago the o+'.icr day, a
little fellow recognized me on the street, and
said to me : ' I am from Toronto. ' He soon
brought to me two other little fellows, also
fro.T Toronto. . . . The mother of one of
these boys told me that selling newspapers on
the streets had brought ab lut the ruin of her
son. He had learned to chew tobacco and
come homo late at night, and to make his home
most disagreeable. I know of nothing in the
world that would spoil boys like selling news-
papers. 1 have never seen a newsjiaper boy
wno was not corrupt. Better to have grown-

13G

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

up fellows who loaf about town than to be soil-
ing niJWHpaperH. . , . The girls who sell news-
papers aro always destroyed ; there may be
hurt; and there an exception, l)ut I have never
known of one. They could not afford to have
that stain made indelible in their community.

The boy waifs of the city go around iiouse-
breaking, and grow up criminals. iMy brother
Police Commissioners and myself have broken
up twenty gangs of thieving youths in the city
during the term of my mayoralty. I believe
that, if properly looked after, the majority of
uiiese boys could be saved. It was an awful
thing, nn<ler such circumstances, to neglcut
these waifs and strays of the city. "

"Where is Your Boy To-night?"

Man of the world with open purse,
Seeking your own delight,

Pause ere reason is wholly gone —
Where is your boy to-night ?

Dainty ladies in costly robes,
Your parlors gleam with light,

Fate and beauty your senses steep —
Where is your boy to-night ?

Needs are many and duties stern
Crowd on the weary sight ;

Father, buried in business cares,
Where is your boy to-night ?

Patient worker with willing hand,
Keep the home hearth bright ;

Tired mother, with tender eyes.
Where is your boy to-night ?

Turn his feet from evil paths

Kre they have entered in ;
Keep him unspotted while ye may ;

Earth is so stained with sin ;
Ere ho has learncl *(> follow wrong

Teach him to Ic ve the right ;
Watch ere watching is wholly vain —

Where is your boy to-night?

— A non,

Toronto Fresh Air Fund.

Although not part of the work undertaken
by the Toronto Humane Society, yet the estab-
lishment of a Fresh Air Fund is ([uite in har-
mony with its objects.

The purpose of this Fund is to provide means
for giving the waifs and strays of our city, the
sick children, and mothers with babes, an out-
ing by water to some of the many places of
pleasure resort near t'e city.

This most desirable and pleasant work was
undertaken by Mr. Kelso, Secretary of the
Humane Society. In this ho was cordially
aided by many of our well-known philanthro-
pic citizens — ladies and gentlemen. The first
outing took place on the 11th June, 1888. The
Toronto city papers gave a graphic ac«ount of
it. The following extracts are from the Xewn'
article : —

" ' Every human soul has a germ of some flowers
within; and they would open if Ihoy could only
lind Hunshineand free air to exjiiind in. I always
told you. that not having onouKli of sunshine was
what ailed the world. Make ijonple hapijy, and
there will not be halt the (|uai'rclling or a tenth
part of the wretchedness there is.

" ' The haunts of hniipinoss are varied, and rather
unaccounlable, Init I have more often seen her
among little children and home flresidcH, and in
country houses, than anywhere else— at least I
think so.

" ' —Sydney Smith.'

" Yesterday morning Captain Ben Tripp
stood on the hurricane deck of the Rupert and
gazed good-naturedly down on as novel a sight
IS he has met with in his stcamboating experi-
2nce. Hundreds of children of all sizes and all
ages from fifteen to six swfrmed on the lower
deck and climbed ovci- everything as only
children can. They were mostly strong-look-
ing children, b".t many of them were pale and
weak-looking, and their cheeks lacked the
healthful tan which contact with sunshine im-
parts. There were little old faces on young
shoulders, and there were tiny prattlers who
looked with amazement around the steamer,
for many of them had never been aboard one
before and everything was novel and interest-
ing. Their raiment was of many colors and
designs, from the antique to the ellort of the
modern fashionable. They were all cleanly
and had evidently prepared for a show day,
for whatever bit of finery they possessed they
displayed it where it would be the most attrac-
tive. These were the children the Fresh Air

tit'

toil

SOLUTION OF SAD SOCIAL I'lvOBLKMS.

137

1(1 rather

;oii hor

nnd in

least I

eamer,
rd one
terest-
trs and
of the
cleanly
day,
they
attrac-
sh Air

('ommittce hail guthered together to pivrticipiito
in tlie lirHt of llie HvrieB of excursions for poor
children which liave lifen arran^ffd. . . . Alxnit
tiftoun niiuutua hufore the etcanier Btarted, the
proccBiiion of children, iiuaded hy the fife and
drum hand from the lioys' Home, appiared on
the wharf, and Hoon Hwarmed over the steamer.
Mr. T. .1. U'ilkie, the owner of the steanier,
ami who is one of the company controlling the
park, g'lVb the use of the boat and the grounds
for tlie day, and beamed with good nature at
the numbers tiiatcamo to share his hospitality.
Mr. W. 11. llowland and Mr. (Jooderham, ))e-
sidcs several clergymen, went down to the
wharf to see the e-xcursionists oil'. Hefore the
boat reached Long IJranch the sun was shining
brightly, and with warmth. It was a very
orderly crowd, the boys Ix'in^ especially staid
in their behaviour, and it there were any riot-
ous spirits aboard they subdued themselves
mo». .Tuctually. Leaving the steamer at Long
Branch Park every boy and girl was supplied
w ith a paper l>ag of dainties, and soon the
tall trees looked down on groups of hap])j'
picnicktrs nestling in their shades. After-
wards a number of giuiea occupied the atten-
tion of the little ones, the prizes being balls,
liats, skipping ropes, dolls, and other articles
which please the young. If ever excursionists
enjoyed themselves these boys and girls did,
and throuijhout their ccnduct was most exem-
plary, and it was not found necessary to put
any restraint upon them. Also, in the after-
noon the charitable ladies, among whom were
Miss Howe, Miss Alexander, Mrs. J. C. Clapp,
Mrs. I'iper, Mrs. Hrett, and several others
from the missions, laid out a substantial lunch
for the party, and about five o'clock, weary
with romping in the woods, yet regretting that
the day had tlown .so (piickly, they were
gathered into the boat again, anil landed in
the city without mishap of any liind."

The Teleijram adds to its report: —
" It is the intention to give one such excur-
.ioii weekly for ten weeks. One will be ten-
dered mothers with babes, and another will be
given the sick children.

"Too much cannot be said in praise of the
Fresh Air Fund movement. It appeals to the
tender sympathy of all who love (lod's poor.
And the grand success of this first excursion
must be sutlicient reward for the self-sacrifice
of those ladie.s and gentlemen who will appre-
ciate the beautiful words coming from the
heart of the Lover of little children: 'Inas-
imich as ye have done it unto one of the least
of these, ye have done it unto Me.' "

Licensing of Newspaper Vendors.

Mr. Kelso, Secretary of the Society, has
furnished the Editor with the following specific
information on this subjoct : — •

" Th-ough the efTorts of the Toronto Humane
•'^neiety, the following amendment was made
last session to the Ontario Municipal Act (sec-
tion 436) :

" ' The Board of Commissioners of Police shall
also regulate and control children as vendors

of newspapers and amallwaros, and as boot-
black...'

"The object of this legislation is on tlio one
hand based to protect and encourage boys in an
honest and industrious course, and im the other
to prevent dishonest boys fioin making news-
paper selling a i loak for idleness and thic ing.
I>y a, regulation of the Toronto ISoard of Police
('omniissiiiners, which will be introduced shortly
(and which w'o expect will bo adopted), youii:.;
girls will bo entirely excluded from engaying
in newspap' r selling. We have here indis-
putable evidence that this occupation is for
them, in almost every case, the beginning of a
life of degradation and sin. Boys of tender
years, say under eight or ten, will also \n'.
refus(;d license ; and all of those licensed will
be reipiired to wea' prominently a license badge
supplied by the authorities. We hope in time
to wean children away from this occupation, if
not altogether, at least to such an extent as
will materially lessen the evil results springing
from a large number of children being thrown
upon the streets at an age when they should bo
receiving instruction in the schools."

Legislation Obtained by the Toronto
Humane Society.

As the result of the meeting held in Associa-
tion Hall, and the conference with the then
Mayor (see page 135), it was resolved to crys-
tallize the many suggestions made, and to seek
legislation on the subject.

Accordingly a deputation, composed of the
ollicers of the Society, was appointed to wait
on the Attorney-(ieneral in regard to the pro-
posed legislation. It la gi atifying to know that
the deputation were successful in interesting
Mr. Mowat in their plans. He gave his hearty
support to the principle of a proposed draft of
a Bill on the subject, prepared by Mr. Beverly
Jones. This Bill, under Mr. Mowat's super-
vision, was passed into a law at the then session
of the Ontario Legislature. The substance of
it will be found on page 84 of this publication.

It will be a plca.sure to the Society to aid the
civic authorities (who are cordial in their appre-
ciation of the work) in their efforts to carry
out the provisions of the legislative amendments
to the Municipal Act. These provisions author-
ize the City Council to prescribe the conditions
upon which children shall sell newspapers and
smallwares on the street and other tliing«.

One of the good works of the Society was
the liberation by Mr. Whitosides, a police
officer of the Soi.iety, early in January, 1888, of
about three hundred snow-birds, which had been
secured by the West End (Jun Club for a shoot
ing match at the Ilumber, near Toronto. The
Cl'ib was very indignant at Officer Whitesides,
and threatened law proceedings, but did not
venture to institute them.

138

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

" God Help the Poor."

God help the poor! An infant's feeble wail
Conies from yon narrow gateway, and bo-
hold !
A female crouching there, so deathly pale.

Huddling her child to screen it from the cold ;
Her vesture scant, her lionnct crushed and torn,

A thin shawl <l()th her baby dear enfold :
And so she 'bides the ruthless gale of morn,

Which almost to her heart hath sent its cold.
And now she, siidden, darts a ravening look.
And one, with new hot bread, goes past the

nook ;
And, as the tempting load is onward borne,
She weeps. Ood help thee, helpless one, for-
lorn I

God help the poor !

God help the poor! Behold yon famished lad.

No shoes nor hose his wounded feet protect ;
With limping gait, and looks so dreamy sad,

He wanders onward, stopping to inspect
Each window stored with articles of food.

He yearns but to enjoy one cheering meal ;
Oh ! to the hungry palate, viands rude

Would yield a zest the famished only feel !
Ho now devours a crust of mouldy bread :

With teeth and hands the precious boon is
torn.
Unmindful of the storm that round his head

Impetuous sweeps. God help thee, child
forlorn !

God help the poor !

God help the poor ! Another have I found —

A bowed and venerable man is he ;
His slouched hat with faded crape is bound,

His coat is gray, and threadbare, too, I see.
"The rude winds" seem to "mock his hoary

hair ;"
His shirtless bosom to the blast is bare.
Anon he turns and casts a wistful eye,
And with scant napkin wipes the blinding
spray
And looks around, as if he fain would spy
Friend" he had feasted in his better day,
Ah ! some are dead, and some have long forc-

borue
To know the poor and he is left forlorn !

God help the poor !

God help the poor, who in lone valleys dwell
Or by far hills, where whin and heather
grow.
Theirs a story sad indeed to tell,

Yet little cares the world, and less 'twould

know
About the toil and want men undergo ;

The wearying loom doth call thorn up at morn,
They work till worn-out nature sinks to

. sleep.
They taste, but are not fed. The snow drifts

deep
Arjund the flreless cot, and blocks the door.
The night-storm howls a dirge across the
moor.
And shall they perish thus -oppressed and lorn?
hvhall toil and famine, hopeless, still be borne?
No ! God will yet raise and help the poor.

— A non.

Appeal for Generous Help from the Citizens.

Should the Society bo generously aided, and
sympathetically supported in its praiseworthy
objects by the citi/.ens of Toronto, it cannot
fail, under God's blessing, in giving effect to
the purposes for which it was incorporated and
in accomplishing a good ami great work.

In view of the pressing needs of the Humane
Society, It earnestly appeals to the cltlzene for
aid to astabllsb the following and other most
desirable institutions of a kindred character :—

Temporary Refuge for Destitute and
Neglected Children.

" Give like a Christian -spcali in deeds ;
A noble life's the best of creeds ;
And he shall wear a rojnl crown,
Who gives a lift when men are down."

Mr. Kelso has also, at the request of the
Editor, prepared the following : —

" A temporary refuge for destitute and neg-
lected children is one of the objects which
the Toronto Humane Society desire to promote.
Such a building, situated in a central locality,
would serve as a temporary home for the waifs
picked up by the police, and for those children
whom it might be necessary to remove from
the influence of a cruel, drunken, dissolute
parent or guardian. There is at present no
institution in the city where a destitute child
would be sure, at any time, of a reception and
kind treatment. It is, therefore, an urgent
necessity that early attention should be thus
given to the children of the byways, who, in
years, may prove a blessing or a curse to the
community, according to the early treatment
which they may receive.

Here, as explained, is an admirable opportunity
for a wealthy friend of the cause to give or donate
to the Humane Society a building for such a
noble purpose I or means to put one up. Who
will help the Society in the matter 7

Economy, in the Public Interest, of such

Refuges.
Harper's Bazar has the following highly
encouraging words for the Humane Societies
which prevent cruelty to children : —

SOLUTION OF SAD SOCIAL I'llOlJLEMS.

1 39

," V gor)(l work, receiving less liclp tliiin it
Hhoulil, i» that donu liy the varioiiH Mociutic^ for
the pruvtMition of cruelty to childron. Thin
work is not u ulmrity in its RtriotuHt HtinHe ; for
charity often pauporiHeH, and tlie elFort here in
to prevent pauperiBni, the intention being go to
guanl and protect children while of -tender
years and frame, that instead of growing np to
swell the viler classes, as thoy might if left to
themselves or chance, they shall he given the
opportunity of becoming good people, and,
therefore, good citi/ens. Hvery dolliir spent
upon them, then, is so much money saved to
the governing powers, who would otherwise
have to spend that sum in the (!Ost of providing
police and penalty. Moreover, just no much
wealth is aiidcd to the community as this per-
son midu worthy may create by tliiift and
industry. In ad<lition to these conaidtrations
should be reckoned the satisfaction fell in the
prevention of positive sutFering to the wt ak and
delicate little oeings, too young and ignorant,
and sometimes too loving, to protect them-
selves."

Mr. Prank TJ. Fay, Secretary of the Massa-
chusetts Humane Society, writing on this sub-
ject, says : — •

" The work W animals still receives the most
generous support. I'erhaps it is because the
abuse of an animal occurs in the street, and in
th*! presence of witnesses, while the child, is
punished where there ^re no spectators, and
suffers in secret. Hut it may be said, ' The
child can speak for himself.'

" Of what force or effect are the words of a
child under seven years of age, appearing for
protection from the anger and cruelty of a
drunken father, or the neglect of a drunken
mother? The testimony of such a child will
not be received in court. How many children
twelve years of age, silently bear the cruel
usage, lest, if reported, the abuse would be
increased ? A beating will i)roduce physical
wounds and pain, but docs not necessarily
result in permanent injury, while the neglect,
the moral injury, and mental pain is enduring
and transmissible."

The Names and Objects of Preventive and
Remedial Institutions in Toronto.

1 . The Orphans' Home and Females' Aid So-
ciety, Dovercourt Road. Objects : Reception
and care, " until the age of twelve years, of
(1) friendless orphans (of all denominations of
the I'rotestant religion) ; or (2) those without
a father ; or (3) those without a mother."

2. The Girls' Home, Gerrard Street. Ob-
ject . "The rescue from vice of young girls,
and their maintenance and support ^rom two
to fourteen j'ears of age. "

3. The Boys' Home, George Street. Ob-
ject : " The training and maintenance of desti-
tute boys from the ages of five to fourteen
years, not convicted of crime."

4. The Newsboys' Lodging and Industrial
Homo, Frederick Street. Object: "Torecla'm
from a life of poverty and crime newsboys and
vagrant lads of the city."

r>. Infantn' Home and Intirmary, St. Mary's
Street. Mlijei't : " To receive anil care for des-
titute intants under two years of age,"

H. Hospital for Sick Children-A Work of
Faith Klizabeth Street, Object: " 'I'he re-
lief of childre'i as 'out-patients,' from birth to
the age of fourteen years ; and f(U' the recep-
tion of children as 'in-patients' from the ago
of two years up to fourteen years,"

7. The Lakeside Home, on the Island, in the
convalescent branch of the lliiNpital for Sick
(/'hildren. Object: " The reception of delicate
or ailing children not sulfering from infectious
diseases."

8. Roman C!atholic Orphans' Asylum (House
of Providence Branch) I'ower Street, Object :
" Relief and care of friendless orphans and
half orphans of both sexes, without distinction
of creeil,"

!). Sacred Heart Orphanage, Queen .Street
West, Object : Same as above,

10, St. Nicholas' Home, Lombard Street.
Object : Same as that of the Hoys' Home,
(jieorge Street (No. 3).

"The Loving Heart Grows Rich in Giving."

Is thy cruse of comfort wasting 1

Rise and share it with another,
And through all the years of famine

It shall serve thee and thy brother.
Love Divine will fill thy storehouse,

Or thy handful still renew ;
Scanty fare for one will often

Make a royal feast for two.

For the heart grows rich in giving ;

All its wealth is living grain ;
Seeds, which mildew in the garner.

Scattered, fill with gold the plain.
Is thy burden hard and heavy ?

Do thy steps drag wearily ?
Help to bear thy brother's burden ;

(iod will bear both it and thee.

Numb and weary on the mountains,

Wouldst thou sleep amidst the .snow?
Chafe that frozen form beside thee,

And together both shall glow.
Art thou stricken in life's battle,

Many wounded round thee moan ;
Lavish on their wounds thy balsams,

And that balm shall heal thine own.

Is the heart a well left empty ?

None but God its void can fill ;
Nothing but a ceaseless fountain

Can its ceaseless longings still.
Is the heart a living power?

Self-engrossed, its strength sinks low ;
It can only live in loving.

And by serving love will grow.

— Anon.

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY,

A I.ADV S III .MANli l,I..SSO.N To I'l .^SV.

' Dear friciiils 1 fair women, swnot witli all yonr nnniolcsn charms and wiles,
Urijrht, liuinhinj; niaUleiis, flittiiiR by in innocence and smiles,
Gay children, i,'rave and bearded men, we pray you all give ear ;
Dear friends, kind friends, we turn to you for sympathy and cheer.
Uphold i|9 in our ;!)l)le work, nor let us speak in vain
For tliose too helpless to protest, too patient to complain."

PAET TIT.
LESSONS IN KINDNESS TO ANIMALS AND BIRDS.

I. RESULTS OF HUMANE TEACHING AND INFLUENCE.

" Tlicic Ih ft tviiilcr cortl iij every loul shich, when (wtpt !)>■ the breath of ajiiipnthy, A'ukva anifcU' nieliitUis."- /lii";J.

Humane Sentiments of People of Note.

Althdii^'h it ia too tiuo, aH I'ojio has so truth-
fully, iitiil yet with a ^riiii mkIul'su, told us
that—

"Man's inhumanity to man
MakcH couiitluHH thousaiidH mourn,"

Ktiil, the exiMiptioui) are hucoming ho numerous
that we must look for the cause iu the wider
dill'usion of humane sentiments an<l opinions
—the result of tlie teachiii of the Master
Himself —that are happily ,'■ iirgoly character-
istic of these days.

The ellect of this teaching has naturally
had its elh'ct on our relations, not only to each
other, iu tlie estaMlshment of so many homes,
refuges and asylums, hut it has also had ita
heneticent ellect on our rebtioiis to the dumb
creation,— or our " dumli friends," as they have
with much propriety been called.

It is gratifying, therefore, to know that so
many persons, from the highest to the lowest
rank iu life, have given evidence of their prac-
tical sympathy with the highest aims of the
Humane Sojietics' oigani/atious which have
now been so happily established in nearly all
civilized comniunitios.

The follort'ing individual cases are in point,
and arc interesting in their details :—

I. IIEK MAJESTV THE QDEEN.

On pages 42, 50 and 02 will be found a refer-
ence to the opinions and sentiments of our
Queen on the subject of cruelty to animals,
birds, etc. In her capacity as Patroness of
the Royal Humane .Society of England on its
last anniversary she uttered these noble words :

"No civilization is complete which does not
include the dumb and defenceless of (iod's
creatures within the sphere of charity and
mercy. "

The Queen is also " Patroness of the lioyal
Society for the Protection of Animals in Flor-

ence,'' and, as such, was the recipient of a
highly gratifying ami complimentary addrt'Mt>
from the Society iliiring her recent visit this
year (1888) to that fair "City of Flowers."

II. rnK.HllJENT IISCOI.K.

The folldwiii;^ comes from ,1. (!. liowland, of
Quiucy, 111., and is a true, though heretofore
uupulilished, incident in Lincoln's life: —

In the e.vly pioneer dayn, when Abraham
Lincoln was a practising attorney and "rode
the circuit," as Wbs the custom at that time,
he made one of a party of horsemen, lav/ycrs
like himself, who were on their way one spring
morning from one coiirt town to another. Thtur
course was across the prairies and through the
timber; and as they passed by a little grove,
where the birds were siuging merrily, they
noticed a little (ledgeling, v :dch had fallen from
the nest and was tluttering by the roadside.
After they had ridden a short distance, Mr.
Lincoln stopped and, wheeling his liorse, said,
" Wait for mo a moment, I will soon rejoin
you"; and as the party hated and watclicd
him tliey saw Mr. Lincoln return to the place
where the little bird lay helpless on the ground,
saw him tenderly take it up and set it carefully
on a limb near the nest. When he joined his
companions one of them laughingly said, " Wiy,
Lincoln, what did you bother yourself an(' de-
lay us for, w'th sui'- a trifle as that?" The re-
ply deserves to be remembered. " My friend,"
said Lincoln, "I can only say this, that I feel
better for it." Is there not a world of sugges-
tion in that rejoinder ? — Humiuie, Journal.

III. I'UESIDENT HAYES.

Mr. Angell, in an addre£3 at New Orleans,
said : —

" I can give instances in which a single talk
on kindness to animals has produced wonderful
results.

142

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

" President Hayes told ino at Washington
some years ago, that a single tfdk hp once heard
on tlie subject, when at school in Massachusetts,
he hail never forgotten, atid so he put in liis
annual nicssajje what I wrote for him in rejjard
to the cruel transportation of animals on our
railroads.

" A few days since I had the pleasure of ad-
dressing one of :he largo educational institu-
tions of this city, and at the close of uiy addresis
a gentleman rose in the ai. lience and 8ai<l tliat
some ten years ago he was a studenl, at Dart-
nioutli College, when 1 luul the pleasure of put-
ting information about Humane .Societies before
some four hundred of them in the college
chapel ; and though ho had never hardly
thought of the subject before, he carried from
his whole college course, when he graduated,
no stronger or more durable impression than
that of our duty to God's lower creatures. He
is now a superintendent of the public schools
of one of our most important cities.

"Out of nearly seven tliousand children care-
fully taught kindness to animals through a
series of years, in an English school, not one
has ever been cliarged with a, criminal offence
in any court. "

IV. HON. ALEXANDKR H. STEl'IIENS.

The wife of a United States Senator tells the
following incident: — She said to the distin-
guished Alexander H. Stephens, formerly Vice-
President of the Southern Confederacy, "Come
and see my canary bird that has just died."
" No," said Mr. Stephens; " I cannot look at a
dead bird with any composure; it almost makes
me shed tears. "

V. MR. J. C. DORE,

Mr. E. L. Brown, at the St. Louis meeting of
the American Humane Association, said: —

"Let me tell you a little story, which, per-
haps, you will tliink is about myself until you
hear how it ends. A great many years ago
there wns a little boy going to school, and the
children usud to get Rewards of Merit. It
seems the one this boy received had the follow-
ing vorse on it : —

" ' If ever I see on bush or tree
Young birds in a pretty nest,

I must not, in my play.

Steal the binls away,
To grieve their mother's breast.

For my mother I know,

Won hi sorrow so
Sliouhl I be stolen away ;

So, I'll speak to the birds,

In my softest words,
Nor hurt, them in my play.'

" At that time there was only one Humane
Society in the world, and tiiat was tlie Royal
Society, of Lond<m. All through his life that
boy never forgot those words ; and that man's
name was Joliii C. Dore, of Chicago, to whom
the Chicago Humane Society owes its origin."

At a subsequent meeting of the Illinois Hu-
mane Society Mr. Dore related the incident
himself. He urged the importance of primary
school books containing lessons upon humane
subjects, with pictures representing humane
acts ; the influence of such pictures and lessons
upon himself when a smali boy of seven or
eight years of age, saying that he received at
school, as a reward of merit, s. small slip of
paper on which was a picture representing a
b'rd's nest full of little birds, and the mother
bird on the edge of the nest feeding her little
ones. Under thi.) picture were the lines (juoted
above.

Mr. Dore added that it was quite evident he
remcmliered the picture and the lines under it,
ind, to enforce his illustration, said perhaps it
was to this incident that the humane laws of
the State of Illinois, and the formation of this
Society, owe their origin.

NoTK.— It will he remembered tliat Mr. Dore, at the
time of the orj^anization of the Illinois Society, was a
member of the State Senate, and that he drew the Bills
for the ihuiiane Laws of that State, a'ld for the incor-
poration of the Society, and procured their passage.

VI. ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI.

Amongst the many beautiful stories told of
St. Francis of Assibi, none are more l)eautiful
and striking than those concerning his love
for, and tenderness towards, animals. How
he loved the birds, and called them his sisters ;
how they used to come to him whilst he spoke
to them and blessed them ; how he saved a
pi'-ecn from the hands of a boy who was going
to kill it— how he spoke of it as the emblem of
innocence and purity, and made a nest for it
and watched over it and its young ones ; how
he had pity on a poor wolf, and tamed it and
cauieil it to follow him ; and also how he
thought of the lishes, and blessed them.

VII. REV. 1)11. OlIAN.NIXl!.

Rev. Dr. Channing, in his Memoirs, .says: —

"I can remember an incident iu my child-
hood, which has given a turn to my whole life
and character. I found a nest of birds in my
father's field, v.liich held four young ones.
They hail no down when I first dit covered
them. They opened their little mouths as if
they were hungry, and I gave them some
crund>s which were iu my pocket. Every day
I returned to feed them. As soon as school
was done I would run home for some bread,
and sit by the nest to see them e-\t, for an hour
at a time. They were now .'oat'cered and
almoiit leady to Hy. When I came one morn-
ing I found them all cut up into quarters. The
grass rouiul the uest was red with blood. The

■

RESULTS OF HUMANE TEACHING AND INFLUENCE.

113

little limbs were raw and blnoily. The mother
was on the tree aud the father on the wall,
niourmr<g for their young.

" Thanks to my stars, I can say I have never
killed a bird. I would not crush the meanest
insect that crawls upon the ground. 1 liey
have the same right to life tliat I have, they
received it from the same Fatlier, and I will
not mar tha works of (Jod by wanton cruelty."

VIII. GKOKGE STEPHENSON, THE ENGINEER.

George Stephenson went one day into an up-
per room of his house and closed the window.
'Iwo or three days afterwards, however, lie
chanced to observe i' bird flying against that
same window, and beating against it witli all
its might, again and again, as if trying to break
it. His sympathy and curiosity were arousod.
What coulil *yho little thing want? He at once
went to the room and opened the window. The
bird flew straight to one particular spot in the
room, wliere Stephtnson saw a nest — that little
bird's nest. The poor bird looked at it, took
the sad story 'n at a glance, and fluttered down
to the floor, broken-hearted, almost dead.

Stephenson, drawing near to look, was filled
with unspeakable sorrow. There sat the mo-
ther bird, and under it four tiny little ones —
mother and young all apparently dead. Ste-
phenson cried aloud. He tenderly lifted the
exhausted bird from the floor, the worm it had
so long and bravely struggled to bring to its
home and young still in its beak, and carefully
tried to revive it ; but all his efforts proved in
vain. It speedily died, and the great mi>n
mourned for man^ a day. At that time the
force of George Stephenson's mind was chang-
ing the face of the earth ; yet he wept at the
sight of this dead family, and was deeply grieved
because he himself liad unconsciously been the
cause of death. — Manchester Tunes.

IX. VARIOUS NOTED MEN.

It would take a long tin'e to tell of Ine happi-
ness that is added to human lives by love for
the lower creatures. No man can measure the
happiness which came into il.c lives of sucli
men ae Sir Walter Scott and Sir Edwin Land-
seer through their love of dogs ; or into the lives
of Cardinal Wolsey and Canlinal Richelieu
through their love of cats; or into the life of
Daniel Webster from his love of cattle. Just
before he died at Marshtield, when he found he
was about to die, he requested thit all his cattle
should be driven to his window that he might
see them for the last time ; and us they came,
one by one, to his window, he called each by

name. Ernest Von Vogelweide, the great lyric
poet of the Middle Ages, so loved the birds that
he left a large bequest to the monks of Wurtz-
burg on condition tiiat they should feed the
birds every day on the tombstone over hia
grave. — 7'Ae Humane World.

X. BANDS OF MEECY HOYS.

Mrs. (liishop) Eastburn writes us from Oak-
land, Me., of the good work of the Hands of
Mercy in that State, and gives the following as
one of the illustrations : —

" The other day I heard of a boy who caught
a squirrel (young one) and brought it home,
thinking to tame it. But his mother suggested
that, as the house had already three cats, it
would be better to liberate the squirrel rather
tiian see it killed by the cats.

"So the boy (about V.i years old) walked two
miles to the place whci'e he caught the squirrel
and then let it go, ' so that it would be near its
nest, and not feel lost. ' 1 his is the result of
l!:in(l of Mercy work and reading ' Our Dumb
Animals. ' "

Every good act is charity. Giving water to
the thirsty is charity ; removing stones and
thorns from the road is charity ; ^utting a wan-
derer in the right way is charity ; snuling in
your brother's face is charity. This is illus-
trated by the following incident :—

A short time ago, as I was crossing Market
street, near Twenty-second, a boy, not over
ten years old, who had been walking just before
me, ran into the street aud picked up a brok> .i
glass pitcher, I supposed he intended the pi ,ce8
as missiles, since the desire to throw something
soems instinct in every boy. Consequently I
was much surprised when he tossed the pieces
into a vacant lot at the corner, aud walked
quietly on. Ani he passed me, whistling, I
said ,

" Why did you pick up that pitclier? "

"I was afraid it might cut some horse's
foot," he replied.

My next question was a nataral one : —

" Are you a Band of Mercy boy ?"

He smiled, as he sai<l—

" Oh, yes ; that's why I did it."

Tiie bands of mercy were drawn very closely
around the dear little fellow's heart, I am sure.
— J. M, II., in " Hchool and Home," St. i^ouin.

Value of Kind Words and Kind Deeds.

Every solitary kind action that is done, the
whole world over, is working briskly in its own
sphere to restore the balance between right and
wrong. Kindness has converted more sinners

144

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

than eithor zeal, eloquence, or learning; and The mcnioiy of a kindly word for long gone
tiieae tliree never converted any one unless by,

they were kind also. The continued sense The fragrance of a fading flower sent lovingly,

which a kind heart has of its own need of kind- The gleaming of a sudden smile or sudden tear,

ness keeps it humble. Perhaps an act of kind- The warmer pressure of the hand, the tone of
ness never dies, but extends the invisible uudu- cheer,

KINDLY WOUD.S TO A LITTI.K CU0.SSIN(1 SWEEPE

lations of its inCsence over the centuries. —
Re.v. F. W. Fiihei:

" .Mways there is socd being sown silently
a:id unseen, and everywhere tliere come sweet
llowers withovit our foresij^ht or labor. We
reap wliat we sow, but Nature has love over
and above tluit justice, and gives us shadow
and blossom aiul fruit that spring from no
planting of ours." — Oconjc Eliot.

lEPER.

The hush that means " I cannot speak, but I

have heard,"
The note that only bears a verse from Go'''8

own word : —
Such tiny things we hardly count as ministry.
The givers deeming they have shown scant

sympathy ; [can tell

]5iit, when the heart is overwrou;;ht, oh, who
The power of such tiny things to make it well !

— JMisa Uavergal.

EIRDLIFE -INCIDENTS AND STORIES.

115

Like "as a hen gathereth her chickens under her \v\nge,"—Matl. xxiii. 37.

II. BIRD-LIFE INCIDENTS AND STORIES.

Child Saved by a Bird.

Patty lived in the country, in a white house
with green blinds. Tiiere was a nice yard,
with smooth cut grass and green trees, where
the birds would sit singiur; and swinging on the
boughs. Patty had a swing, too — one that papa
put up — of good stout rope, that would go up
ever so high into the branches. l'"tty was six
years old.

One morning, in the harvest-time, i'atty was
alone at the door. Outside, all was bright and
sunny. Through the air came tl>e softened
hum of the distant reapers. Patty thought she
would like to go out and see papa, i in

anotlier moment the little feet weri iiing
across the Holds. When she came into the
wheat-field, slie could see the men going down
one side, following the reaper, and leaving a
shining row of bundles behind.

Patty tried to catch up, but they worked very

fast; and by and by, growing tired, she sat
down to rest on a sheaf of wheat, liy her side
the uncut grain waved in the sunlight; an old
beech-tree cast a cool, pleasant shade — it was
very beautiful there.

Suddenly a bird flew out of the wheat near
by, sinj;ii)g a rich, clear song. Patty clapped
her hands in delight.

" Perhaps there is a nest in there," thought
I'atty, and "in there" she went, looking with
a pair of bright eyes eagerly about. And, yes,
there it was surely — a nest, and three of the
dearest, sweetest little birdies. Was there ever
anything so funny as those downy little heads,
with the tiny bills wide open ? .Such a nice
place for a nest, too, Patty thought. It was
like I ig in a golden forest in there, for the
grain wiis liigh above lier head. The yellow
straw lau'^'hed, too, a waving, murmuring laugh,
and tos.sed its head back ''.nd forth ; but never
whispered to the chilrl of danger, nor even told

146

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

the men, coming rapidly alonjj, the story of the
little girl hidden in its midst. Tite men came
on, the mauliine leading them, the horses draw-
ing steadily, and the knives cutting sliarp and
sure.

What was it that made the farmer stop hia
team all at once ? Doing a man, with a largo,
kind iieart, he had seen a lark fluttering wildly
over tiie grain. So he said to the man, " Here,
Tom, come and hold the team. Tliere is a nest
somewhere near the old tree yonder. I'll hunt
it up, and you can drive urouud, so as not to
hurt the birds."

A.h, what a cry of surprise papa uttered when
he found his dai-ling I'atty sitting tiicre ! How
fast his heart beat when he thought of the dan-
ger slie had been in ! And how it thrilled and
softened as he caugiit her up in his arms, and
covering her face with kisses, said, " It was the
bird that saved her ! "

When the lirst excitement was over, and
Patty had been carried safely home in her
father's arms, and the men were going dowr
the field again, leaving a wide uncut space
around the lark's nest, somebody— it was a
great, rough-looking nian— said, while tlie tears
glistened in his eyes, and his voice grew husky,
" God bless the birds! "—.S'«)(c'(i//i<.

The Birds' Way to Sing.

The birds must know. Who wisely sings

Will sing as they ;
The common air has generous wings,

Songs make their way.
No messenger to run before.

Devising plan ;
No mention of the place or hour

To any man ;
No waiting till some sound betrays

A listening ear;
No dilForent voice, no new delay,

If steps draw near.

" What bird is that? Its song is good,"

And eager eyes
Go peering through the dusky .vood

In glad surprise.
Then late at night, when by his fire

The traveller sits.
Watching the (lames grow brighter, higher.

The sweet song tlits
By snatches through liis weary brain

To help him rest.
When next lie goes that road again.

An empty nest
On leailcss bough will make him sigh,

"Ah, me! Last spring

Just liere I heard, in passing by,
Tl at rare bird sing ! "

But while he sings, remembering

How sweet the song.
The little bird, on tireless wing,

Is borne along
In other air, and other men

With weary feet
On other roads the simple strain

Are finding sweet.
The birds must know. Wlio wisely sings

Will sing as they ;
The common air has generous wings.

Songs make their way.

— Helen Hunt.

An Almost Human Appeal ^v Birds.

The following charming litth ^tory conies
from a gentleman in Warner, Illinois ; —

"Close to my window, as I write this, I see
a wren's nest. Three years ago I drove some
nails in a sheltered corner; a pair of wrens
built their lust there. The old birds often
come into my otHce and sing. One of them has
repeatedly alighted on my desk as I have been
writing, saying plainly !)y his actions, ' You
won't hurt me. We are friends.' A few j'ears
since, in a knot-hole in a dead tree, near a path
from my office to my house, lived a family of
wrens, with whom I liad formed a very intimate
ac(|uaintaiioe. One day while I was passing in
a liui ry I heard the two old birds uttering cries
of fear and anger ; ami as I got past the t. ee one
of the wnms followed me, and by its peculiar
motions and cries induced me to turn back. I
examined tlie nest and found the young birds
all right; looked into the tree's branches, but
saw no enemies tliere, and started away. Both
birds then followed me with renewed cries, and
when I was a few yards away they flew ii front
of me, fluttered a moment, and then u.uted
back to the tree. Then one of them came back
to me fluttering and cryinj;, then darted from
me near to the ground iiiidei the tree. I looked,
and there lay a rattlesnake coiled ready to
strike. I secured a stick and Uillcd him, the
wrens looking on from the tree ; and the mo-
ment I did so they changed tlieir song to a
lively, happy one, seeming to say, 'Thank
you!' ill every note." — Montreal Hi'rald.

"Sweetest, Sweet, O Sweet!"
Over my shaded doorway.

Five little brown-winged birds
Have chosen to fashion their dwelling,

And utter their loving words ;
All day they are going and coming

( >n errands freiiuent and fleet,
And warbling over and over,

"Sweetest, sweet, sweet, sweet!"

Their necks are changeful and shining.
Their eyes are like living gems ;

BIRD LIFE -INCIDENTS AND STORIES.

117

ely sings
Helen Hunt.

! Birds.

comes

itory
ia; —

3 this, I see
drove some
ir of wrens
birds often
of them has
I liave been
;ions, ' You
A few years
near a patli
a family of
M'i' i)itimatc
i passing in
tering cries
the t. ee one
its peculiar
•n Ijack. 1
oung birds
inches, but
vay. liotli
1 cries, and
ew ii Mont
hen iKirted
came back
arted from
I looked,
ready to
d him, the
id the mo-
song to a
y, ' Thank
mid.

bt!"

s
elling,

\ ect ! "

lining,
9;

And all day long they arc busy
(lathering straws and stems,

Lint and feathers and :;rasses.
And half forgetting to eat,

Yet never failing to warble,

"Sweetebt, sweet, sweet, tweet! "

Teach me the happy magic

Hidden in those soft words.
Which always, in shine or shadow,

So lovingly you repeat,
Over and over and over,

"Sweetest, sweot, sweet, sweet!"

^Florence Percy.

'Over my shadoil doorway five little brown-wiiijreil birds
Have choaen to fiisliioii their dwelliiiij, and utter their loving words."

I scatter crumbs on the door-step.

And fling them sonio Hossy threads;
They fearlessly gather my bounty,

And turn up their graceful heads.
And chatter and dance and tlutter.

And scrape with their tiny feet.
Telling mo over and over,

"Sweetest, sweet, s\\eet, O swetti '

Always merry and busy.

Dear little brown-winged birds!

Beautiful Instance of Motherly Care.

A robin's nest was filled with young ones in
sight of a friend's window. The mother-bird
was away, when a violent thunderstorm came
up. As the heavy drops began to pour down
she returned, and the little ones greeted her
with open mouth, expecting the usual food.
She pressed them down with her foot and sat
on tliem with extemled wings to shud the hard
rain, and remained there till the storm was over.

148

THE TORONTO HU.MANE SOCIETY.

Was there not a process of reason here? She
Biivv the heavy downpour of rain, and thinking
of lier exposed chilJren, believed they would be
hurt or drowned without her care; ho she hur-
ried back. 'J'his is called instinct; but instinct
is concentrated reason without the proceos be-
ing made known.

Tiie little birds were sadly disappointed in
not getting their food, but it carries a lesson to
children not to grieve because their wishes are
not gratified — it is for their good; it may be
tlie saving of their lives. — Anon.

The Woodcock's Care for Its Younf;.

Tlie care of birds for their fledgelings, and
indeed of most creatures for their young, is
proverbial, and an in-
stance founiled on it is
given by inspiration as
to God's care for His
people : —

"As an eagle stirreth
up her nest, lluttereth
over her young, spread-
cth abroad lier wings,
taketh tliein, beareth
tlieni on her wings, so
the Lord alone did lead
him" [Jacob]. — Dtiit,
xxxii. Jl.

The instance we give
in this case is that of
the woodcock. "In nu-
merous instances," as
Uev. J. (J. Wood says,
" the mother bird has
been known to carry
away her young when
threatened by danger,
and, from reliable ac-
counts, she places them
upon her spread feet,
and thus carries them
between the toes " (as
shown in the engrav-
ing). "According to

Mr, St. John, ' regularly as the evening comes
on, many woodcocks carry their young ones
down to the soft feeding grounds, and bring
them back again to the shelter of the woods
before daylight. I have often seen them going
down to the swamps in the evening carrying
their young with them.' "

Grandmother's Myth of the Robin.
My old Welsh neighbor over the way

Crept slowly out in the sun of spring,
Pushed from her oars the locks of gray,

And listened to hear the robin sing.

Her grandson playing at marbles, stopped,
And cruel in sport, as boys will be,

Tossed a stiine at the bird who hopped
From bough to bough of the apple-tree.

" Nay ! " sait the grandmother, " have you not
heard.

My poor, bad l)(iy ! of the fiery pit,
And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird .

Carries the water that quenches it?

lie brings cool dew in his little bill.

And lets it fall ou tlie souls of sin ; [still

You can see the mark on his red breast
Of fires that scorch as he drops it in.

My poor bron ruddyn! my breast burned bird,

the

Am
bin

GIVING HER CHICK A BIRD S-EYE VIEW.

Singing so sweetly from limb to limb,
Very dear to the heart of our Lord
Is he who pities the lost like him ! "

" Amen ! " said I to the beautiful myth ;

"Sing, bird of God, in my heart as well;
Each good thought is a drop wherewith

To cool and lessen the fires of hell.

Prayers of love like rain-drops fall.

Tears of pity are cooling dew,
xVnd dear to the heart of our Lord are all

Who snfler like him in the glory they do ! "

—J. O. Whiltier.

BIRD LIFK-INCIDENTS AND STORIES.

149

rrcd,
(1

;ree.

e you not

bird .

[still
1 breast

led bird,

^ell;

The Beautiful Humming-Bird.

Of the marvellous luimming-bird, ('miipbell,
the poet, saya : —

" The wiiiglets of the fairy huiiimiiighiril,
Like atoms of the rainbow Hitting rouinl."

These beautiful birds are found only in
America, and are the counterpart of the Mun-
birds of tiie Old World.

Brave Little Humming-Bird.

Brave little humming-bird,
Every eye blesses thee ;
Sunlight caresses thee,
Forest and field are fairer for thco.

Into each opened flower
Dives the little ruliythroat.

-Anon,

ill

r do ! "

Vhittier.

Mr. John Burroughs on the Humming-Bird.

Mr. John Burroughs, in one of his delightful
essays on birds' ucata, sr a : —

"The woods hold nc. such another gem i. ;
the nest of tlie hunniiing-liird. . . . I luivo met
witii but two, and tliat by chance. Tiie re-
peated darlings of a bird past my cars catisi^d
me to suspect. ... 1 soon saw tiie nest, wliich
was in prooeis of construction. ... I had the
satisfaction of seeing the tiny artist at work. . .
At intervals of two or tiirec minutes tlie l)ird

Briffht hummins-liinl of jfcm-liko plumeletagc,
By western Iri(lj.iii9 " Living: Sunbeam " named.

— Bailey.

r>looms at thy coming stirred,
Bend on each brittle stem,
Nod to the little gem.

Bow to tlie humming-bird, frolic and free !
Now around the woodbine hovering,
Now the morning-glory covering,
Now the honey-suckle sipping,
Now the sweet clematis tipping,
Now into the blue-bell dipping ;

Hither, thither, flashing, bright'ning.

Like a streak of emerald lightning.
Round the box, with milk-white phlox:
Round the fragrant four-o'clocka;
O'er the crimson quamoclit,
Lightly dost thou whirl and flit ;

would appear with a small tuft of some cottony
substance in her beak, . . . and alighting ([uickly
in the nest arrange the material brought, using
her breast as a model. . . . The humming-bird,
unlike all otliers, does not aliglit upon her nest,
but flies into it ; she enters it as (juick as a
llaSli, but as light as a feather. Two eggs are
the complement. They are perfectly white,
and so frail that only a woman's fingers may
touch them. Incubation lasts ten days. In a
week the young have flown."

A Tame Humming-Bird.
Mr. P. H. (losse says that the most interest-
ing anecdote which he had read was published
in The Friend, of Philadelphia, from a corres-
pondent, who said : —

160

TIIK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIF.TY.

"One of my family caught a small humming-
bird, which a|ipeare(l (|iiite dubilituted for want
of food. We preaentcd it with some sugar aiid
cream mixed together, wliich it Hiicked up with
avidity ; after wliioh it was restored to liberty.
In the course of a short interval it again made
its appearance, was taken in hand, and a mix-
ture of sugar, made into the consistence of a
syrup, poured into the corolla of a trumpet
honeysuckle, from wliicli it eagerly extracted
it. From that time f,)rward it l)ecaine quite
familiar, and would conic a do7.en times a day
or more to bo fed. After fluttering a few
seconds at the door or window to attract notice
it would alight on a neighbouring tree, or rose
bush, until its food was prepared for it ; and
then, upon calling ' peet, peet,' it would dart
in a straight lino with the velocity of an arrow
to receive it. Tiie last time it came was in
August, when, no doi.bt it went off with its
fellows to more southern ri'ions."

Minutest of the feathered !.ind.
Possessing every charm combined,
Nature, in forming thee, design'd

That thou should'st be
A proof within how little space
She can comprise such perfect grace,
Rendering thy lovely fairy race

Beauty's epitome.

—Anon.

The Humane Society la anxious to enrol every
reader among Its friendly supporters. Such
members and their contributions are required.

"Ah-Bob White."

Quail are so tame and confiding that I wish
October 15th meant no harm to them ; we have
no bird which is so much man's friend every
day in the year. No bird of my acquaintance
— and my list is long — will repay kindness and
watching like little Rob White. Let a man
who Uives a true friend or loves a cheerful
voice stand on his door-step on a July evening
when Bob is whistling his vespers. Hark ! he
is sitting on yonder fence— " Ah- Bob White"
— note the trifling difference in accent between
this one and that f 3II0W in the meadow. Four
at one time, ar I heard them a few nights
since, just after '.unset, made a quartette worth
listening t'. Happy is the man who owns a
small lot that is visited day after day by a flock
of quail. When a man says, " There is a flock
of quail around here, I wish you would not
shoot them," I know how he f eels. ^ IJ W/tr B.
Savary.

The Life and Love of the Pewee.

A pair of pewees had built Immemorially
on a jutting brick of the ice-house. Always

on the same brick, and never more than a
single pair, though two b.oods of Ave each are
raised there every summer. How do they
settle their respective claims to the homestead ?
Once some children oolugi/ed the nest, and the
pewei's left us for a year or two. . . .

I'tut they came back at last, and one of them
now is on his wonted perch, eo near my win-
dow that I can hear the click of his bill as he
snaps a fly on the wing. . . . The pewee is
the first bird to pipe in the morning. He pre-
ludes his ejacii' itions of "pewee" with a
slender whistle. . . . He saddens with the
season, and, as the summer declines, he changes
his note to "cheu pewee," as if in lamenta-
tion. . . . There is something inexpressibly
dear to me in these old bird friendships of a
lifetime. There is scarce a tree of mine but
has had, at some time or other, a happy home-
stead among its boughs, to which I cannot
say :—

" Many light hearts and wings,
Which now be dead, lodged in thy living
bowers."

— James Russell Lowell.

The Pewee's Answer.

— I sat me down
Beside the brook, irresolute ;
And watched a little bird in suit
Of sombre olive, soft and brown,

Perched in the maple branches, mute ;
With greenish gold its vest was fringed,
Its tiny cap was ebon tinged.
With ivory pale its wings were barred,
And its dark eyes were tender-starred.
" Dear bird," I said, " What is thy name?"
And thrice the mournful answer came,
So faint and far, and yet so near —
"Pe-wee! Pe-wee ! peer!"

-J. T. Trowbridge.

The Bluebird, the Herald of Spring.

" The bluebird chants from the elm's long branches,
A hymn ot welcome to the budding year."

— William Cullen Bryant.

John Burroughs relates the following anec-
dote illustrative of the instinct of the bluebird :

"I was much amused one summer day in
seeing a bluebird feeding her young one. She
had captured .» cicada, or harvest fly, and after
bruising it on the ground flew with it to a tree
and placed it in the beak of the young bird.
It was a large morsel and the motii<.x' seemed
to have doubts of her chiok's ability to dispose
of it, for she stood near and watched its efforts
with great solicitude. The young bird strug-
gled violently with the cicada but made no head-

BIIID-LIFE-IXCIDENTS AND STORIES.

151

way In swallowing it, when the mother took it
from hi.Ti and (low to tlie sidewalk, and pro-
ceeded to break and hruiHe it more thorougidy.
Then bhe again placed it in hia ))eak and
Heomed to say: ''I here, try it now,' and sym-
pathized so thorougidy with h'n elt'irtM that
she repeated many of his motions and contor-
tions. Hut the great tly was unyielding, and
indeed seemed ridiculously disproportionate to
the beak that held it. 'ihc young bird flut-
tered and fluttered and screamed : ' I'm stuck,
I'm stuck,' till the anxious parent again r.eized
the morsel aui". carried it to an iron railing,
where she came down upon it for the space of
a minute with all the force and momentum her
beak could coiiMnand. Then she olFdred it to
her young a third time, but with the same
result as before, except that this time the
fledgeling dropped it ; but che was on the
ground as soon as the cicada wac and taking
it in her beak (lew some distance to a high
board fence where she sat motionless for some
moments. While pondering the problem how
the fly should be broken the male bluebird
approached her, and said very plainly : ' Givfl
it me,' but she quickly resented Ids interfer-
ence and Hew further away, wliere she sat
({uite discouraged when I last saw her."

The Coming of the Bluebird.

"Tho bluebird is a home bird. Ills coming in the
spring marks a new chapter in the progress of the
season."— ./oAn Burrotigha.

While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy,
warm.
The green face of earth, and the pure blue
of heaven,
Or love's native music has influence to charm,

Or sympathy's glow to our feelings is given,
Still <lcar to each bosom the bluebird shall be ;
His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a
treasure ;
For, through bleakest storms, if a calm we but
see.
He comes, to vemind us of sunshine and
pleasure !

He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree,
The red-flowering peach, and the apple's
sweet blossoms,
He snaps up destroyers where'er they be,
And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their
bosoms ;
He snatches the grub from the corn it de^iours,
For worms and for insects he has an affec-
tion ;
His song and his services freely are ours,
And all that he asks is, in summer, pro-
tection.

The ploughman is pleased when he follows his
train,

Now searching the furrows, now singing to
cheer him ;
Tiie gardener delights in hia sweet simple
strain.
And leans on his spade to survey and to hear
him ;
The slow, lingering schoolboys forget tliey'll
be chid.
While gazing intent as he warbles before
them.
In mantle of sky-blue and bosom so red.

That each little loiterer seems to adore him.

When all the gay scones of the summer are
o'er.
And autumn slow enters, with winds cold
and hollow.
And all the gay warblers, that charmed us
before,
Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking
swallow ;
The bluebird, forsaken, yet true to his home,
Still lingers and looks for a milder to-mor-
row.
Till forced by the cold winds of winter to roam,
He sings his adieu in a low note of sorrow.
— Altered rom tVUnon'M Ondthology,

Land Birds at Sea.

I rememben with pleasure the circumstance
of the little birds that, during my first voyage,
took refuge on the steamer. The first after-
noon, just as we were losing sight of land, a
delicate little wood bird, making, perhaps, its
first southern migration, lost its reckoning and
c;'me aboard. It had a disheartened, demoral-
ized look. After resting it disappeared. . . .
The next day a small hawk was sailing about
the vessel, with a lofty, indcpenilent mien, as
if only lingering to take a good look at us. . . .
Presently he found it not inconsistent with his
dignity to alight on the rigging, where I saw
his feathers rudely ruffled by tho wind, till
darkness set in. . . . The third day a titlark,
from the far north, dropped upon the deck,
nearly exhausted. ... It stayed about the
vessel nearly all day flitting from point to point,
and prying into every crack and crevice for
food. Time after time I saw it start off with a
reassuring chirp, as if determined to reach
land, but before it had got many rods from the
ship, its heart would seem to fail it, and after
circling about for a few moments, back it would
come more discouraged than ever.

These little waifs from the shore ! I gazed
upon them with a strange, sad interest. They

. 4

152

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETV.

wore frinndg in distross ; hut the sua liinln,
ihirtiiiK ill uikI out among tlienu wiitory liilU . .
I liiul no f>yni|iiithy witli tlieni.

Occasionally ono of tlieso laml birdH niaUo
tlio paHsage. . . . And I have hcon told that
over fifty dilFtinMit 8peci(;s of our more uommnn
birds have hcon found in Inland. . . Hut what
luinibors of those little navigators are misled ami

kinds that had dashed thomsalves against the
lieacnn, hcwihlored aTid fascinated \>y its tre-
nionilous liglit. John Ihirronghn (ahriihjid).

The Voices and Songs of Birds.
Nature has her festivity, for which she as
scndjlps niUHiciana from .11 regions of the globe.
. . . They are itinerant minstrels, who can only

I-AN'U BIIIDS ON Tin; \\ATi:U.

wrecked during those dark and stormy nights
on the lighthouses that line the Atlantic coast 1
It is Celia Thaxter who tells of having picked
up her apron full of sparrows, warblers, fly-
catchers, etc. , at the foot of the lightlioiise on
the Isle of Shoals one morning after a storm,
the ground being still strewn with birds of all

sing short ballads. . . . Thus the thrush whis-
tles, the swallow twitters, the ringdove coos.
. . . The redbreast meanwhile repeats her sim
pie strain on the barn-door. The nightingale
waits until night has imposed silence — then
I'hilorrela, the first songstress of creation, be-
gins her hymns to the Eternal. -iJ«r?"OUj//M.

HIFil) LIFE-INCIDHNTS AND STOUIES.

ir.ij

I'lie NtiiginK of liirda Ih an often the oxproMsioii
n' Horrow iih of joy. TIik l)ir(l that hiiM lost her
yiiiiiig Btiil Bin^g ; hut liy a stroke of her art the
iiuiHiuian lias chuiiged her key, and the Kong of
plcagure is coiivurtod into the lainentationa uf
^jrief. The bird seems to he the 'jrue emblem
(if the Christian liero below. ..ike him, it pre-
fers solitude to the world, lieavtn to the earth,
anil its voice is ever occupied in oelobrating the
wonders of the creation. — Chateaubriand.

The Calls and Notes of Birds.

' Do you uk what llie hlrrtf iiy? The aparrow, lUu
(lovo,
The llnnut, and tlirunh «nv, ' I l<ivo unci I lovo !'
In the wiiitvr thuy'r« iiilcnt, the Miriil ii no iitroiiif ;
What It Hiiyi I lion t know, lint itHliiKH a loud ■onu
Diit gnrn Inavei and hlouonm, and lunny, warm

weather,
And Blnirlnif and lovlny;, all come hack to((elhor.
lUit the lark la ao hrlniful of Klitilnuaa ami love,
The i^reun fli'lda below him, the blue aky abovo,

FKKDINO THE IKT PIOKON'S.

Hush—

For I hear him —
Enshrined in tlie heart of the wood :

Tis the prieirtly and reverend thrush
Anointed to sing to our Ood :
And he hymns it full well.
All I stammer to tell,
All I yearn to impart.
Listen I

— Dauake Dandridge.
11

That he aings and he singrs, and for ever sings he,
' I love my love, and my love loves me.' "

— Colvrltliye.

There is the Maryland yellow-throat, for in-
stance, standing in the door of his bushy tent,
and calling out as you approach, "Which way,
sir ! which way, sir ! " If he says this to
the ear of common folk, what would he not say
to the poet ? One of the pewees says, "Stay
there ! " with great emphasis. The cardinal

1A4

TlIK TORONTO HUMANK SOCIKTY,

groaabuak cillit (iiit, " What chnur ! what
oheorl" Thj Viliuiliiiil nay!, " I'uiity, piii ity,
purity ! " riu) brown tlira«hcr, nr fiTi-titjiuimH
ttiruali, acconliii^ to Tliorvaii, cuIIh out to tlio
farmer planting liii uorn, " Drop it, drop it !
cover it up 1 " Tlio yirllow-hreagtod cliat HayH,
" Wlio, who!" ami "Tea-boy!" What tlie
robin aays, carolling that HinipUt Htrain, from
the top of the tall maple, or the crow with
his hardy "Haw-haw!" or the pedestrian
ineadow-iark, aoun.ling his piercing and lon;{-
drawn note in the Hpring mcadowH, the pot-ts
ought to be able to tell ub. I only know that
the birds have all a language whiih in very ex-
presHive, and wliich in easily traiiHlatable into
the human touguo — John Jiurroiighs,

The Skylark's Wonderful Song.

" Uir(l» of till' wllileriu'SK,
Ullthcaonie unci cunibiTlt'ssi."

- ilugg-

The wonder of the English skylark's song is
its copiousness and sustained strength. Tliore
is no theme, no beginning, or end, like most of
our best bird-songs, but a perfect swnrm of
notes pouring out like bees from a hive. . . Wo
have many more melodious songsters ; the
bobolink in the meadows, the vesper sparrow
in the pastures, the purple finch in the groves,
the winter wren, or any of the thrushes in the
woods, or the wood wagtail. . . . I!ut our birds
all stop where the Knglish skylark has only
just begun. Away he goes on ijuivering wing,
inflating his throat fuller and fuller, mounting
and mounting, and turning to all points of the
compass as if to embrace the whole landscape
in his song, the notes still raining upon you as
distinct as ever, after you have left him far be-
hind. . .

Several .ittcmpts have been made to intro-
duce the lark into this country, but for some
reason or other the experiment has never suc-
ceeded. . . The lark is really an institution,
and as he sings long after other birds are silent
— as if he had perpetual spring in his heart —
he would be an accjuisition to our fields and
mi adows.— /oA« liurrouijhi*.

The volume of sound produced by the sky-
lark is most wonderful. " Tlie lark ascends
until it looks no larger than a midge, and can
with dilficu'.ty be scon by the unaided eye, and
yet every note will be clearly audible to per-
sons who are fully half a mile from the nest
over which the bird utters its song. Moreover,
it never ceases to sing for a moment, a feat
which seems wonderful to us human beings,
who find that a song of six or seven minutes in

length, thiuigh interspcrsuil with rrsti niul
pauMCH, is more than trying. Kven a practised
public speaker, though he can {wuMe at the end
of each sentence, tinda the applauHO of the
audience a very welcome relief. Moreover, the
singer and speaker need to use no exertion save
exercising their voices. Vet the bird will pi ir
out a continuous song of nearly twenty ndnutes
in length, and all the time has to support its(tlf
in the air by the constant use of its wings."—
/;.<•. J. a. Wood.

Notes and Play of Birds and Animals.

Kun is not contine<l to boys and girls. Home
of the smallest insects enjoy themselves in some
kind of sport. They dance in and out amongst
themselves ii. the sunshine, and dart hither and
thither, as if chasing each other in play.

This is particularly so in the case of small
birds. The trumput-bird hops about in the
most eccentric m inner on one leg, and throws
somersaults. The crane expands its wings,
runs round in circles, leaps, and, throwing little
stones and pieces of wood into the air, endeav-
ours to catch them again. Water birds dive
after each other, and cleave the surface of the
water with outstretched neck and flapping
wings, throwing spray in all directions. The
mockingbird delightj in imitating the notes
and noises of other birds and animals, and even
of man, as does the parrot. It sings all sorts
of bird-songs; it whistles for the dog, and it
squeaks like a hurt chi(;ken. The barking of a
dog, the mewing of a cat, the creaking of a pass-
ing wheelbarrow, are all imitated by this little
creature with surprising truth and rapiility.

The sportive springs and frolic of the kitten
is familiar to us all as the very embodiment of
playfulness. .Dogs, too, enjoy the same kind
of amusement with other dogs as do horses with
horses, taking care not to hurt each other. The
California Indians say that the cubs of bears go
through all sorts of queer little antics. The
older ones, too, indulge in a sort of clumsy
dance, while the others sijuat down and look
on. The/ nften join in and make a most gro-
tesque performance of it, evidently for their
amusfment. — Selected and Adapted.

Kindness to a Household of Robins.

I once had a chance to do a kindness to a
household of them, which they received with
very friendly condescension. I had my eye for
some time past upon a nest and was puzzled by
a constant fluttering of what seemed full-grown
wings in it whenever I drew near. At last 1

lUUI) LIFK-INCIDKNTH AND STOKIES.

150

li rmta niid
n u pructined
Ml! lit thu riid
luiiMU uf thu
lofiover, the
I'xortion Have
lird will p( ir
uiity iiiinuti'H
Mipport itiM^lf
tH wiugB."—

Animals.

girls. Some
lelves in boiiu;
out aniongHt
Tt liitiier ami
1 pliiy.

case of small
tthout in the
, anvl throws
Is its wiiijj;H,
knowing little

air, eiideav-
er birds dive
surface of the
and flapping
Botions. The
ng the notes
taU, and even

tigs all sorts
a dog, and it
liiirking of a
\ing of a pass-
by this little

1 rapidity.

of the kitten
inbodiment of
!io same kind
lo horses with
h other. The
lbs of Ijears go

antics. The
)rt of clumsy
own and look
te a most gro-
jtly for their
ed.

)f Robins.

kindness to a
received with
lad my eye for
vas puzzled by
r)ed full-grown
ear. At last 1

climbed the tree In splto of the angry pro-
tcNtH from tilt) old liirdM againiit my intrunion.
The mystery had a very simple iolution. In
building the nest, a long piece of packthread
had Iteon somewhat loosely woven in, three of
the young had contrived to entangle themselves
in it, and had become full-iTown without being
able to launch themselves into the air. One
was unharmed ; another he ' so tightly twisted
the coril alxnit its shank that one fuot was
(tilled up and seemed paraly/.ed ; the third, in
Ills struggles to escape, had sawn tlirough the
ilesh of the thigh and so mu.h harmed liiinsolf,
that I thought it humane to put an end to its
misery.

When I took out my knife to cut their
hempen bonds, the heads of the family seemed
to divine my friendly interest. Suddenly
ccutiiiig their ciics and threats, they perched
<iuietly within reach of my hand and watched
me in my work of manumission, 'i'his, owing
to the fluttering terror of tlie prisoners, was an
alFair of some delicacy ; but ere long I was
rewarded by seeing one of them fly away to a
neighboring tree, while the cripple, iiuiking a
parachute of his wings, came lightly to the
ground and hopped oil as well as he could with
one leg, obseiiuiously waited upon by his ylders.
A week later I had the satisfaction of meeting
birn in the pine walk in good spirits, and
already so far recovered as to be able to balance
himself with the lame loot.— James Hunmll
Lowell.

Shall I Let the Caged Bird Free ?

Hi^'h at the window in her cage

The old canary tlits and sings,
Nor sees across the curtain pass

The shadow of a swallow's wings.

She gathers piteous bits and shreds,

Tliis solitary, mateless thing,
To patient build again the nest

So rudely scattered spring by spring ;

And sings her brief, unlistcned sonjjs,
Her dreams of bird life wild and free,

Yet never beats her prison bars
At sound of song from bush or tree.

She will be heard ; she chirps me loud,
When I forget my gravest cares,

Her small provision to "(upply
Clear water and her seedsman's wares.

To open wide thy prison door,

J'oor friend, would give thee to thy foe ;

And yet a plaintive note I he:ir,
As if to tell how tlowly goes

The time of thy long prisoning.

Kird I does some promise keep thee lanef
Will there be better days for thee 7

Will thy soul, too, know life again?

SHALL t LET TIIK (!A(IEI> IIIIU) FKEB?

Ah ! none of us have more than this :
n one true friend green leaves can reach

From out some fairer, wider place,
And understand our wistful speech !

— Sarah Orme Jeicitt.

Chinese Pet Birds.

Lady Brassey, in her delightful book, "A
Voyage in the Sunbeam," speaking of her visit
to Canton, says : —

" In the l)ird market I saw numbers of little
birds for sale, for the Chinese are very fond of
peti, and often take their birds out in a cage
with them when they go for a walk, just as we
would be accompanied by a dog. They man-
age to tame thom thoroughly ; and when they
meet a friend they will put the cage down, let
tlie bird out and give him something to eat
while they have their chat. I saw this done
several times."

Characteristics of the Loon.

The loon is the great diver and flier under
water. It is always refreshing to contemplate
a creature so positive and characteristic. He
is the (jeniiH loci of the great northern lakes,
and is as solitary as they are. ... It is a
cousin to the beaver. It has the feathers of a
bird and the fur of an animal, and the heart of

ITjG

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

both. It ia as quick and cunning aa it is bold
and resolute. It dives with such marvellous
(luickness that the shot of the gunner gets there
jiiBt in time to cut across a circle of descending
tail feath&rs and a couple of little jets of water
flung upwards by the web feet of the loon.
When disabled so that it can neither dive nor
tly, it is said to face its foe, look him in the face
with its clear, piercing eye, and tight resolutely
till death. The gunners say there is something
iti the wailing, piteous cry, when dying, almost
human in its agony. — John Burroughs.

Birds of Passage.

By .1 natural impulse, when the time comes, the liirils
from tlie South or Nortli .ire on the move homeward
iiuain. A writer say9:-"IIow I sympathize with them,
especially in the autumn, \i lien they have to move. Some
ito to lirazil, some to Floricia, nome to the tahltlands of
Mexico; bv.t all unanimous in the 'ict tlmt they must
:;o soon, for they have marching orders from the Lorfl,
written in the jiictorial volume of the changing leaves.
There is not a helted kingfisher, or a chaffinch, or a llre-
crcstcd wren, or :. i)lo\er, or a red-legged partridge, but
expects to flpei}(l evcrs winter at the .South ; and after
thousands of miles of (light t:.ey stop in the same tree
where they spent the previous .lanuary. In ever" nutunin
let tliem strew the continent with music."

Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing!
Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring ?
— "We come from the shores of the green old

Nile,
Fi cm the land where the roses of Sharon smile,

From the palms that wave through the In<lian

sky.
From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby.

We have swept o'er the cities in song renown'd,

Silent they lie with the de.'i* ts round !

We have crossed proud rivers, whose tide hath

roU'd
All dark with the warrior blood of old ;
And each worn wing hatl: regain'd its home.
Under peasant's roof-tree or monarch's dome."

And what have you found in the monarch's

dome.
Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam ?
— " We have foimd a change, we have found a

pali,
And a gloom o'ersaadowing the banquet hall.
And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt,
Nought looks the same, save the nest we built ! "

Oh! joyous birds, it hath still been so;
Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go
I5ut the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep,
And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep, —
Say what have yoii found in the peasant's cot,
.■iince last ye parted from that sweet spot ?

— " A change w have found there — and many

a ohp.nge !
Faces, and footsteps, and all things strange !
Gone are the heads of the silvery hair.
And the young that were have a brow of care.
And the place is hush'd where the children

play'd;
Nought looks the same, save the nest wo made?"

Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,
Birds that o'ersw3ep it, in power and mirth !
y pf, I '■• . ,ugh the wastes of the trackless air,
Ye I. » Guide, and shall wk despair?
Ye ov desert anl deep have pass'd,
So may we reach our bright home at last.

— Mrs. Hemana.

KIND TREATMENT OF HORSES, AND A CONTRAST.

157

III. KIND TREATMENT OF HORSES, AND A CONTRAST.

OBJECT OF THE FOLLOWING EX-
TRACTS AND EXAMPLES.

The main object of most of the matter inserted
in this publication is to furnish ample informa-
tion to all parties interested in the work of the
Humane Society, and to enlist their sympathy
and co-operation. It was felt to be desirable
also to embody in the publication a series of
illustrative and uucjuestionable facts, bearing
upon the question of the intelligence and saga-
city of various kinds of animals. It was felt,
too, that a knowledge of the peculiar character-
istics of the animals themselves, as told in these
anecdotes and stories, would naturally create
such an amount of personal interest in the sub-
jects of these stories that it would make every
reader more than ever their friend and protector.

Illustrative Facts and Anecdotes.

It is proper as well as most interesting to
know that, as with the dog, so with the horse,
kindness has a powerful efl'pct in attaching this
noble creature to its master. The following
facts and anecdotes on this subject have been
gathered from various sources.

Many beautiful and touching stories are told
of the affection of horses. After a battle in a
country where birds of prey speedily devour
dead bodies, a soldier's horse once stood over
its dead master, preventing these birds from
touching the form it loved so well. Without
food or water or rest this real mourner and
dumb friend kept its sad guard ; and but for
tlie coming of a burial party it must have died
at its post. The horse had been the dead sol-
dier's since its early life. He had fed it, groomed
it, talked to it, and love<l it.

The Arabs never use whips to tlieir horses.
They treat them as friends — as those whom
they love to please; and, in return, their horses
yield heartiest and noblest service. 'J'he fields
on wliich the Arab horse grazes are almost
boundless; for the country they inliabit is not
fenced into plots — it is all open an<l free. The
horses are generally not tied, but they never
stray from their master's tent. They even go
into the tent and lie down there — treading cau-
tiously till they reach their own place.

The Arab's Farewell to His Horse.

My beautiful I my beautiful ! thou standcsit

meekly by.
With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and

dark an<l fiery eye !
The stranger hath thy bridic rein ; thy master

hath his gold,
Fleet-liuilied and beautiful ! farewell ! thou .■*

sold, my steed, thvu'rt sold !

Farewell! Those free, untired limbs, fu'l liiiiy

a mile nnist roam.
To reach the chill and wintry clinic that clouds

the stranger's home ;
.Some otlier hand, less kind, must now tliy corn

and bed prepare ;
That silky mane I braided once must be an

other's care. v

Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glanc-
ing bright —

Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm
and light ;

And when I raise my dreaming arms to check
or cheer thy speed.

Then must I startling wake to feel thou 'rt sold,
my Arab steed !

Ah ! rudely then ! unseen by me, some cruel

hand may chide.
Till foam-wreaths lie like crested waves, along

tiiy panting side.
And the rich blood that's in thee swells in thy

iiulignant pain.
Till careles-'j eyes that on thee gaze, may count

e;ich starting vein !

Will they ill-use thee 1 If I thought- -but no—
it cannot be ;

Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed, so gentle,
yet so free ;

And yet, if haply, when thou'rt gone, this
lonely licart should yearn.

Can tlie hand that casts thee from it now, com-
mand thee to return '!

" Return I " Alas I my Arab steed 1 What will
thy master do

When thou that wast his all of joy, has van-
ished from his view ?

Wlien the dim distance greets mine eyes, and
thi'ongh the gathering tears

Tiiy briglit form for a moment, like the false
mirage, appears?

158

THK TORONTO HUMANK SOCIETY.

Slow K,ii(l iinmounteil will I roam, with wearieil

fuot iiloiie,
Where with fleet stejw and joyous houml tlioii

oft iiast borne me on ;
And sitting down by the green well, I'll pause

and sadly think
'Twas here he bowoil his glossy neck when last

I saw him drink.

Wlien last I saw thee drink ! away I tlic fevered

<lream is o'er !
I could not live a day and know tliat we slio\dd

meet no more;
They tempted me, my teautiful I foi- luinger's

power is strong —
They tempted me, my beautiful ! Init I iiavo

loved too long !

Who said that I had given thee up? Who said

that tiiou wert sold ?
'Tis false ! 'tis false, my Arab steed, I fling tliem

Ijaek their gohl !
Thus, thus I leap ujion thy back, and scour the

distant phiins 1
Away ! \Vlio overtakes us now may claim tlice

for his paius !

— Hon. Mrs. Xorton.

Reciprocal Affection of Horse and Arab.

Lamartine, in liis " Pilgrimage to the Holy
Laud," records a story tliat the son of a Sheik
had told him, which shows the tender afl'ection
existing between the Arabs and their horses;
also what return the horses make for their mas-
ter's care of them :

An Arab and his tribe had attacked a caravan
of Damascus in the desert. The victory was
complete; but the cavalry of the Pasha, which
was sent to meet the caravan, made reprisals
and recaptured the booty from the Arabs, the
cliief of which was wounded and captured. His
legs were fastened by a leatiior strap, and he
was stretched near the tent of his Turkish cap-
tors. During the night he heard the neighing
of his horse, . . . and being unable to resist the
desire of caressing once more the companion of
his life, he painfully dragged himself along the
ground and succeeded in reaching his beloved
courser. . . . He then set to work to gnaw
with his teeth the cord of goats' hair with which
his captured horse had been fettered. The ani-
mal was thus freed. But, seeing ids wounded
master in bonds, the faithful horse, witii tl\at
natural instinct which no language could have
explained to him, bent down his head and
smelled his master. Then seizing with its
teeth the leather belt around his waist, he set

oflF at full gallop, and carried him evon to tlie
tents of the tribe. Having reached tlieni and
laid Ills wounded master on tlie sand at the feet
of his wife and children, the noble horse fell
down exhausted, and expired ot fatigue. All
the tribe were moved by this wonderful devo-
tion, and the poets sang his praises, and his
name is ttill honored among the Arabs.

Devotion of the Cossack for His Hcrse.

The devotion of the Cossack for his horse,
and the spirited fidelity of the horse for his
master, is thus pictured by Byron: —

The Coeaack prince rubbed down his horse,

And made for him a leafy bed,

And smoothed his fitlocks and his mane,

And slacked his girtli, and stripped his rein,

And joyed to see how well he fed ;

For he was hardy as bis lord,

And litt'e Ciired for bed and board;

But spirited and docile, too,

Whate'er was to be done M'.,uld do.

Shaggy and swift and strong of liud),

All Tartar-like he cariied him;

Obeyed his voice, and came to call,

And knew him in the niidst of all;

Though thousands were around — and night,

WitliDut a star, pursued htr flight—

Tiiat steed, from sunset until dawn,

Ilis chief would follow like a fa«n.

Per Contra — Treatment of Horses in South
America.

Such tenderness and devotion shown in the
East are in htrong contrast to the general
crueltv, and often inhuman treatment, of horses
in the West, as the following examples, taken
from a recent work, will show: —

It is possiVde that pastoral life in the East
may have fostered this oomijassionate feeling
for animals. ]>ut it is clear that our Christian
civilization has not developed, as it should have
done, a thoughtful regard and tenderness in our
treatment of (Jod's creatures, remembering, as
we should do, that

" His tender mercy is over all Hia works,"
and that, in the words of Watts,

" His providence is large and kind.

Both man and beast His bounty shares."

Faber has expressed the same thought, as
applicable to man himself; and yet it is also
true of "both man and beast" —

" There is a widcneaa in (iod'a n.ercy,
As the wideuees of the sea. '

RETURN FOR KINDLY TREATxMENT OF HORSES, ETC,

159

The late lamented Lady Ikassey, in the
graphic records of her voyage round the world,
is very aympathetio in her referencea to animals
of different kinds which slie met with in her
various trips. Near tlie town of Azul, 30J
miles from liuenos Ayres, she witnessed several
acts of cruelty to horses. Speaking of one, she
said : —

" It was a rather sad sight. Inside a circular
enclosure for making bricks, about fifty lialf-
starved mares, up to their houghs in very sloppy
niiid, werd being driven i-inmd about, and up
and down, as fast as they could go, by a mounted
peon, or driver, assisted by five or six men on
foot outside the enclosure, armed with long,
heavy wliips, which tliey used constantly. . .

"The next proci 'ing witnessed was the las-
soing of a potro, ubroken colt, which was
galloping about, i centre of a troop, at full
speed. His fore W. were caught in the noose,
which brougiit him up, or rathe^ down, in-
stantly, head over heels. Another lasso was
then thrown over his head, and drawn quite
tight round his nock, and a bridle, compo.sed of
thongs of raw hide, was forced into his mouth
by means of a slip-knot rein. A sheep.<kiu
saddle was placed on his back, the man wh,>
was to ride liini standing over him with one foot
already in tlie stirrup. All this time the poor
horse was lying on the ground witii his legs
tied close togetuer, frightened almost out of his
life, trembling in every limb, and perspiring
from every pore ! When the man was ready,
the lassoes were suddenly withdrawn, and he
dashed forwards, springing and plunging up-

wards, sideways, downwards, in every direc-
tion, in the vain effort to rid himself of his load.
Tlie man remained, planted like a rock, in the

saddle, pulling hard at the bridle, while a second
domidor, on a tame horse, pursued the terrified
animal, striking him with a cruel whip until he
became exhausted."

IV. RETURN FOR KINDLY TREATMENT OF HORSES, ETC.

These examples, which follow, are designed
to illustrate, not only the results of a kindly
and beneficent 'atment of horses, but also
tliat wonderful sagacity (amounting to a species
if "dumb reason"), which horses, dogs, and
ler intelligent animals show in their relations
t< and treatment of, those who are kind to
th' '. Such "dumb reason" seems to be a
sort of return to man for his kindness shown
to them.

"Bay Billy," our Leader.

'Twas the last fight— that day at Gettysburg :

Five Beveral stubborn times we charged

The battery on the hill,
And five times beaten back, reformed,

And kept uur columns still.

At length ou gallant colonel fell,

And we were left unled ;
" We've no one left to lead us now,"

The sullen soldiers said.

Just then, before the laggart line,
The colonel's horse we spied —

Hay Billy, witli his trappings on.
His nostrils swelling wide,

As though still on his gallant back
The master sat astride.

Right royally he took the place

That was of old his wont.
And with a neigh, that seemed to say,

Above the battle's brunc,
" How can the Twenty-Second charge

If I am not in front ? "

No bugle call could rouse us all
As that brave sight had done ;

Down all the battered lino we fell;
A lightning impulai run ;

160

THE TORONTO HUMANK SOCIETY.

Up, up the hill we followed Hill,

And captured every gun !

Not half the Twenty-Second's men

Were in their place next nioru ;
To call the old familiar roll

Our valiant Sergeant tries —
One feels sad thumping of the heart

Aa no prompt voice replies !

And as in faltering tones and slow

The last few names are said,
Across the Held the missing horse

Toiled up with weary tread.
It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick

Bay Billy's name was read !

Yea ! there the old bay hero stood,

All safe from battle's harms,
And e'er an order could lie heard,

Or the bugle's quick alarms,
Down all the front, from end to end.

The troops presented arms !

Not all the shoulder straps on earth
, Could still our mighty cheer.
And even from that famous day,
'""hen rang the roll-call clear,
Bay Billy's name was read, and then,
The whole line answered " Here! "
— Frank 11. Gassaway. (Abridged and altered.)

Lost on the Prairie.

Some yer.rs since a party of surveyors had
just finished their day's work in the north-
western part of Illinois, when a v'iolent snow-
storm came on. They started for their camp.

The wind was blowing very hard, and the
snow drifting so as to nearly blind them. When
they thought they had nearly reached their
camp, they all at once came u})on tracks in the
.snow. These they looked at with care, and
found, to their dismay, that they were their
own ti'acks.

It was now plain that they were lost oh the
great prairie, and that i.' they had to pass the
night there in the cold am', the snow, he chance
was that not one of them would be alive in the
morning. While they were all shivering with
fear and with cold, the chief surveyor caught
sight of one of their horses, a gray pony, known
as " Old Jack," and said : " If any one can show
us our way to camj) in this blinding snow. Old
Jack can do it. I will take off his bridle and
let him loose, and we will follow him. I think
he will show \is the way to our camp."

The horse, as soon as ho found himself free,
threw his head in tlie air, as if proud of the
trust. Then he snulFed the breeze and gave a
loud snort, which seemed to say, "Come on,
boys. Follow mo; I'll lead you out of this
scrape."

Ho then turned in a now direction and walked
ofT, and the men followed him. They had not
gone more than a mile when they saw the cheer-
ful blaze of their ca;npfires. They all gave a
loud iiiirrah at the sight.

They felt grateful to God for their safety, and
threw their arms around Old Jack's neck, to
thank him for what he had done. I know this
is a true stoi'y, for my father was the chief of
the party on the occasion.

"Sell Old Robin ?-No, Never I"

"Sell Old Robin," did you say? "Well, I
reckon not to-day ! "

"You iro not so green, of course, as to feed a

worn-out horse
Out of pity or remorse ? "

" Yes, as long as I am master of a shed and bit
of pasture ! "

lie is old and lame, alas! Don't disturb him
as you pass !
Let him lie there on the grass, while he may.
And enjoy the summer weather, free forever

from his tether.
Sober veteran as you ace him, we were young
and gay together;
It was I that rode him first — ah, tlie day !

I was just a little chap, in my first pantaloons
and cap,
And I left my mother's lap at the door ;
And the reins hung loose and idle, as we let

him prance and sidle —
For my brotlier was behind me, with his hand
upon the bridle ;
Yearling colt and boy of five, hardly more !

Poor Old Robin ! Does he know how I used to
eling and crow,
As I rode him to and fro and around ?
Every day aa we grew older, he grew gentler,

I grew bolder,
Till, a hand upon the bridle and a touch upon
his shoulder,
I coulil vault into my seat at a bound.

RETURN FOR KINDLY TREATMENT OF HORSES, ETC.

161

Then I rode away to achool, in the mornings Bad to worse was now my game; my poor

fresli and cool ; mother, still the same,

'i'ill one day beside the pool where he drank. Tried to shield me, to reclaim— did her best.

Leaning on my handsome trotter, glancing up Creditors begun to clamor. ....

across the water All wu had was pledged for payment; all was

To the Judge's terraced orchard, there I saw sold beneath the hammer :

the Judge's daughter My Old Robin there among the rest!

In a frame of sunny bonghs on the bank. , ,

Was it Robin more than I, that had pleased her As I wandered ofiF that night, sometiiing far o<T

girlish eye, caught my sight.

As she saw us prancing by? Half, I fear! Dark against the western light, in the lane;

OlFshe ran to get some cherries, white-hearts. Coining to the bars to meet me — some illusion

black-hearts, sweet-hearts, straightway 1 sent to cheat me 1

" I used to cling to brother, as I rode him to and fro.'

Hoy and horse were soon familiar with the hos-
pitable gateway.
And a happy fool was I — for a year.

Lord forgive an oidy child ! All the blessings
on me piled
Had but helped to make me wild and perverse.
What is there in honest horses that should lead
to vicious courses?

Often Mary urged and pleaded, and the good

Judge interceded,
Counselled, blamed, insisted, threatened ; tears

and tlireats were all unheeded,
And I answeretf him in wroth — it was done !

No, 'twas Robin, my own Robin, dancing, whin-
nying to greet me !
With a small white billet sewed to his mane!

The small missive I unstrung — on Old Rcbiu's
neck I hung ;
There I cried, there I clung! while I read,
In u liand I knew was Mary's— "One whose

. kindness never varies
Sends this gift." No name was written, but a
painted bunch of cherries
Or. tlie dainty little note smiled instead !

There he lies now ! lank and lame, stiff of limb
and gaunt of frame.
But to her and me the same, dear old boy !

162

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIKTY.

Never steed I think was fairer ! Slill I see him

tiic proud l)earer
Of my pardon and salvation; nnd ho yet shall

bo a sliarer —
As a poor dumb beast may share — in my joy.

By such service and his goodness, he has fully

earned his pension;
Jlc aliall, thcrefoii-, have his pasture with a

little kind attention
From myself and my dear Mary — guardian

angel and my "sweetheai-t."
While our cliildrun try to climb him, as I did

so long before them.
And so lianl-hearted as you are, Dan — eh?

You don't say ! You are crying?
Well! an old horse —our dear Robin— has his
' uses after all !
— J. T. Troioridgi; (abrid'jed and altcivdj.

A Fearful Race Through the Chicago Fire.

On the mor:ing of that terrible Monday,
when one-third of Chicago went down in the
maelstrom of tire and flame, tliere occurred one
of the strangest, and probably most fearful,
races on record. It was little brow n Kittic and
her owner, Mr. Fred. Blackmar, ran the race,
against the raging, sweeping fire, which was
driven by the fierce gale, which swept in eddies
from over the prairies.

Blackmar, who lived in the west division, had
gone down at once to assist in saving property
from the store ; and it was not until late on
Monday morning that he thought of the danger
of brown Kittic. At once he started for the
barn, only to find the front of the building was
one vast sheet of flame. Nowhere coidd he see
tlie hostler. Through the back door he rushed
into the stable, and there stood his pet shiver-
ing in every limb. With a cry of joy she recog-
nized her master, and, while he was unfasten-
ing her halter, tlie grateful creature jilaced liir
nose against his face and gently rubbed his
clieek. A moment later and the mare was
hitched to the liglit road-waggon, the back door
was thrown open, Fred sprang into the seat,
and, while the burning hay dropped down upon
him in flakes, he drove forth into the midst of
the flames. Tiiere was a narrow alley witli
buildings on fire on either side of it for him to
drive through, and faster than Kittie ever went
before went she thro\igh that gauntlet of flame.
Once a tongue of flame reached across the alloy,
and scorched poor Kittie's handsome mane,
and almost burned out one of her bright eyes,

which were almost human in their expression ;
l)ut Fred spoke gently to her, and, with never
a skip, she went onward and onward across
State .Street, and no chance to turn to the
right nor left, with buildings bla/.iiig up in
front, and death, crowding him closely in the
rear. Now Wabash Avenue was readied, and,
like lightning, the Kttlc darling turned the
corner, and flew with the speed of thought
southward along the broad thoroughfare, whoso
westward side was already one long row of
flame. With a straight road before him, per-
fectly level, and laid with Nicolson pavojieut,
Fred sent the mare along faster and faster.

Away oir towards Jackson Street he could
see the black smoke and red flame reaching
across and trying to seize upon the opposite
side of the way. Should they do so before
he passed the spot, escape was impossible !
" Gently, Kittie, gently ! " They were the first
words he had spoken for some time. " Now
then, my little beauty," and, for the first time
in all his life, he touched her with the whip.
Tiic cirect— so sensitive was she — that the marc
broke into a run, and then there was no stop-
ping her ! Like a thoroughbred, she sped like
the wind, and, almost in a trice, she had cleared
tlie fire and was still running desperately on.
Presently Blackmar succeeded in gently pulling
her down to a trot ; and finally to her usual
pace. Fred would not take thousands of dol-
lai's for her after that terrible race. And, as
he told of his escapade, his beautiful and brave
Kittie was patted and caressed by fair ladies. —
Sthicled (Mid abridged.

Remarkable Instance of the Power of
Kindness.

The striking example of the wonderful power
of kindness is given in the ninth report of tlie
American Humane Association. The case is
that of Maud S. , a noted racer, as given by Mr.
S. T. Harris, an authority on veterinary mat-
ters, in WaUace'K Moulh!!). The substance only
is ((uotcd. .Speaking of Mr. Bair, her trainer,
he stHted that the relations between Mr. Bair
and Maud .S. were perfectly confidential, in--
tclligent, and sympatiictic. She is wilful, high
tempered and imperious. She resists brute
force with a violent resentment that cannot be
conijuered. She yields to tlie power of kindness
with artectionate sensibility. . . .

After she became the property of Mr. Van-
derbilt, she showed the quality of her mettle.
Neither her owner nor the colt-training phe-
nomenon Cavil Burr, could, by the mere force
of will or strong arms, make her submissive. . .

RETURN FOR KINDLY TUEATMKNT OF HORSES, ETC.

163

At the end of the season she pulled on the hit
with (listenduil nosti ils and tlaniing eyes, us if
siie would suU'or her lower jaw to be fractured
before she would bo con(|uered by the mere
force of his ^icat strength. . . Mr. Vander-
bilt sent her liack to her trainer, Mr. Hair, who
gave an exhibition of her at Chester Park.
When he first broke and trained her, she was
gentle and tractable, but at the Park she arched
her back in de-
termined re-
sistance, and
braced her
lower jaw
against her
neck as a pur-
chase to with-
stand any at-
tempt to con-
trol her, and,
with ft wilful
frenzy of mad
temper, she
plunged and
broke and
jumped and
tossed her
head in defi-
ance. (See il-
lustration ou
page 18. )

liut Mr.
I5air, to whom
she had been
returned, was
patient and
undistarbeil.
He had never
resorted to the
cruel treat-
ment of many
so-called skil-
ful trainers —
that is.toToiix
and bribe
their horses
with sweet-
meats in the stable, and on the s'.ightcst provo-
cation undo all this eilect by punishing them
unmercifully in public. No other trainer with-
in my knowledge, at all times and under all
circumstances, seems to realize that the he-it
method of exercising mind over matter in the
horse creation is by the unfailing power of con-
siderate kindness.

His conduct that day followed up in his sub-
sequent treatment saved Maud S. from ruin.

He quietly held her, coixing her to desist,
never scolding or jerking or striking her.
Even to the stable door her eyes flamed with
open rebellion. Thei e she was unharnessed
amid gentle caresses ; her shoes were pulled
ofT, and she was kindly led into winter (luarters,
in the hope that months of recreatitm would
bring forgetfulness of disastrous contests with
her late I'^astern driver for the mastery.

After the
trial we have
described she
ran out daily
in tine wea-
ther from Oc-
tober to the
beginning of
the new year.
But all this
time she was
receiving un-
conscious tui-
tion that was
certain to de-
vclo]) her un-
eijuallfcil ])ow-
ers. In her
box, as well as
in her pad-
dock, she was
fondled and
p a m p e r e d
with apples
and sugar till, like a petted child, she would
search the never-empty pockets of her friend
and trainer every time he came into her pres-
ence. Would that every master of the dumb
brute creation could thus realize the almost
omnipotent power of human kindness !

On New Year's Day her vacation ended ; he
tacked on her shoes and began to walk and jog
her preparatory to training in the spring. He
did everything to make her forget her late
experience. Ho rlrove her to an ordinary break
cirt on the road ; indeed, in every conceivable
manner he could think of ; over the hills,
through the crowded streets of the city, one
day as the "ofl" and the next day as the
" near" marc of a double team, plying her with
the most untiring kindness of voice and touch
till her turbulent spirit of determined rebellion
finally softened under the soothing influences
of gentle atl'ection. (Jradually she ceased pull-
ing ; only occasionally did she indulge in buck-
ing her head upon her breast, and still more
rarely insist upon those violent rushes of speed,
ending in wild, plunging breaks. At last Maud

'MAUD 3." HUNTING FOR SUGAR.

1G4

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY,

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hi-
lt'

S. was quietly lod upon the course. Instantly
the old fury returned. .Shu uhuwud dt'liance to
the tips of hur great curs. Hut tlio saniu gentle
touch and kindly voice reassured hor confidence,
and she became at laiit as tractable as a little
child, llow wonderful is the power of never-
failing kindness !

8hc was nut driven at once upon the track,
but led four or live miles, and then quietly
harnessed amid caresses.

If she began to show the least disposition to
renew her unfortunate battles she was not re-
sisted, for slie would certainly have gained the
mastery ; but she was quietly walked to the
stable iv'ii'. put gently away till the next day,
when she was led ten miles before being har-
nessed to the sulky. Thus her anger and fears
were dispelled ; thus her confidence in her
driver became absolute; and thus her great
powers of speed were made perfectly available,
liut who that was charmeil with her graceful
movement, her easily controlled ambition and
her child-like obedience would have dreamed
of the admirable patience and winning ail'ection
required to bring about these invaluable results.
To-day anyone who can hold the reins steadily,
without pulling, can drive her with the greatest
ease.

The Way to Gain a Horse's Confidence.

The following is taken from a paper read by
Mr. Todluinter at the ninth annual meeting of
the American Humane Association : —

"Mr. Hartholeinew, whose horses do such
marvellous things on the stage, was asked :
'Wliat is meant by the teini, " Kducation as
applied to animals ?" ' He replied :

"' There is no secret about my business. I
have seen it claimed liy men familiar with the
horse that it is absolutely necessary to use the
whip frequently in order to get the horse to do
anything. That is not true. I use the whip
very little, and principally to liven the horses
and nuvke them (luicker. The first thing to be
done is to gain the horse's confidence. The
horse must know that you mean to treat him
right, and that you do. He knows about what
is riglit with very little instruction. He under-
stands, too, how far punishment is deserved
and when it is overdone. ISome people treat a
horse as if it was his nature to be ugly. Now
the horse is very rarely ugly by nature, and
when he balks, kicks or runs away, he does it
in the belief that he is defending himself. The
most importcnt thing is to get the horse to
understand what you want him to do. Some-
times he may do what is desired, but it may be
simply by chance, and the next time the horse
is asked to do the same thing and fails, perhaps
the whip is applied to overcome his supposed
obstinacy. That is not right. He sure he
knows what it is you want him to do. Horses

closely resemble the human family in their dis
positions and degrees of intelligence. It is not
necessary that the horse should be of good
breed in order to make him susceptible to teach-
ing. Some of the most tractable and intelligent
horses I have are common cart horses. Tlie
horso possesses memory, and upon that con-
cession it must be admitted that he can also
think. After you have ind)ued him with the
idea that you desire him to learn, you can
make him do anything within the scope of his
capabilities. My horses understand everything
I say to them, and give tiie whole performance
at the word of command. I can give any part
of my performance at any time. Their per-
ception is keen, and the> learn much from
observation and association, so much so that
aluidst any of my scholars will perform the
niiuor duties of any other if called upon to do
a ». Vhey are affectionate, and know each other
so Weil that temporary separation causes them
much anxiety. Some of them if parted for any
length of time would pine ttway and become
sick.'

" I can think of no better illustration of right
and wrong methods in the education of animals
than is reen in the history of the celebrated
mare, Maud S.," as given (from Wallace's
Moidhly) in the preceding article.

Horses Should be Educated for Service.

Animals being endowed with but little in-
tellectual and reasoning power, are in their
natural state governed by blind instinct and
capriciousness. They are, however, creatures
of habit, and when their habits are once formed,
it is with dilHculty that they are changed.

Thus, nearly all creatures have a sense of
locality. It is found in the ratio correspond-
ing to the kind and careful treatment of the
animals. " The ox knoweth his owner and the
ass his master's crib."

Most persons have never liad any other idea
but that an animal must be broken to service
and that the whip is the magic wand of train-
ing.

But a better day is dawning. I'eople arc
learning that animals should be educated for
service, not broken or "trained." "Sl'hey are
capable of service only from the fact of their
possession of intelligence. If they had not
the capacity to understand what is required
of them they could not be taught to perform
service. But nature, for the benefit of man-
kind, has made them tractable and docile.
Whenever, therefore, animals contract vicious
or dangerous I'abits which, by the way, usually
threaten injury to themselves or their owners
or both, and which always depreciate their
property value, the fault lies not in themselves
but in the vicious methods employed in their
education. — Mr. Todhunter'a Paper.

i
I

RKTURN FOR KINDLY TREATMENT OF HORHES, ETC.

165

Pierr' t, the Faithful Donkey.

It would be ililKcult to fiiiil a story more full
iif tender pathoii than the following one. It
iulrnirahly illustrutes one of the main purposes
tor which thin pulilieation has heen prepared
iiiid isiHued. And that is, to hIiow what a
Hul)tle bond of sympathy arises, and does exist,
between ourHelves and any dumb creature to
wliom wo show kindness, and in whon) W(! feel
a deep personal interest. It in aiu'i/ing how
powerful that bond bocomos, and iiow unmis-
takalde arc the tokens of loving devotion

hurrying by, like everybody elre. A female
ragpicker, pale and famished, led by tlie bridle
a poor little donkey, which seemed a hundred
years olil, and which dragged a poor little cart
full of the rubbish of the street : rags, broken
bottles, torn papers, worn-out nkilU.'ts, crusts
of bread — the tliousand nothings which are the
fortune of rag-pickers. The woman had done
good work since midnight, l)Ut the donkey was
ready to drop, lie stopped short, as if he hail
made up his mind to go no further. His legs
trembled and threatened a fall. lie hung his
head with resignation, as if waiting the stroke
of death.

"The sight touched and arrested me. A

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["iKiUKiT, Tin: rMTiiiri. donkky.

which dog, or horse, and, in this case, a
<loiikey, shows to those who, by their kindly,
tlioughtful acts, call it forth.

Araene Houssaye, tlie French writer, tells
the story, the chief incidents of which he wit-
nessed him'self. Although, in the main, diller-
cnt in its fuller details and its more striking
features from the case of the poor horse and
its erjually poor driver, mentioned by Mr.
Hergii (on page 26), yet the cases are some-
wliat parallel in many respects.

" It was a cold day, as people walked rapid-
ly along the Boulevard de Courcelles. I was

man would have beaten the poor beast to rouse
him ; the woman looked at him with an eye
of motherly pity. The donkey returned the
look, as if saying, ' You see it is all over ; I
have done my beat for you, night after night,
because I saw your misery was greater than
mine. Vou have treated me well, sharing your
bread with me, and your neighbor's oats, when
you could get them ; but I am dying at last.'
'J'he woman looked at him and said, gently :
' Come, come, dear Pierrot, do not leave me
here.' She lightened the load by taking out a
biisket of broken bottles. ' Come now, ' she said,
as if talking to a child, ' You can get on nicely
now. ' She put her shoulder to the wheel, but
the donkey did not move. He knew that

166

TilK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

The donkey

tiu )ia(I not titrength to walk to Ht. Oueu, hin
wretched home. She Htill coaxed him : ' How
do you tlunk we ciiti ){Ht iilon^ this way,
I'iei'i'ot? To bo sure 1 could drii^ the cui t ;
but 1 uun't put you in it, and you wouhl l>u
ashamed to be dra){>,'ed after it. Tl
raiHed hiH oarB, but no more.

" I waa going to speak to her, when aho ran
into tlie nearest wiiie-shop. The donkey fid-
loweil lier with anxious eyes ; lie seemed fear-
ful that he would die without his iniHtress.
Ho was BO little you would have taken him at
a distanie for a I'yronean do^'. lie hud gro>
gray in the harneiiB. A few tufts of gray ht.ir
renuiined here and there upon his emaciated
body. He looked like a mountain burned bare
in many i>laces. He was almost transparent in
his leanness. Hut his face was all the more
expressive. He had something ahnost huniau
in its intelligence and goodneas.

"The rag-picker soon returned, bringing a
piece of bread and a lump of sugar. The (Ion-
key turned and showed his teeth-like old
piano keys. Hut, although it was his break -
laHt time, he had no more strength in his month
than in Iuh logs. She gave him the sugar. Ho
took it as if to oblige her, but dropped it
again, and the same with the bread. ' Ah !
what shall I do?' said the rag-picker. She
thought no more of her cart. She was full of
anxiety for her poor donk<'y. 'I'ierrot!' slie
cried again. Two great ' < came to her eyes.
She took hia head in hei ins and kissed him
like a child. The caress did what nothing else
could do. The donkey roused himself anil
brayed as in liis best days. I fenred it was
only hia swan-song. 1 approached and said to
the woman : ' You seem to be in trouble.'

" ' Oh ! ' she said, crying, ' if you knew how
I love this beast. I saved him from the butcher
four years ago. In tiiose days I had only a
hod. I have raised seven children with my
hook. The father is gone, and one other, and
my eldest daughter was taken a forlnight ago.
My worst grief was that I had to take one to
the Foundlings. I had eleven in all. Four of
them died. It's no use; you can't take good
care of them when you work in the streets all
night. The little donkey has been my only
consolation. He was better company than my
husband. He never got druVik, and never beat
me ; and I never beat him. Would I, Pier-
rot?'

"The poor little beast seemed to share in the
conversation. He half rais-id his ears and as-
sented. One of my friends pa.sed by, cwd askec?
me what I was doing. ' 1 am making a ne'i^
friend.' ' He may be witty, but he is not ha'.d-
some.' 'I fiud him admirable, and I would
like to see you in his place. He has beer out
here since midnight. Here, do you want to
help me in a work of charity ? ' ' With all my
heart.' ' Very well, let us buy this c'.onkey and
put him on the retired li.st. This i^ood woman
will take care of him.'

" The rag-picker looked at ra severely, fear-
ing we were laughing at her. But, when she
saw the shine of the louis-d'or, she smiled.
' How much did Pierrot copt?' ' Ten francs.'
' Well, you go back to thf; abattoir an<l buy
another donkey, and take rare of this one.' I
gave my card to th? woma.i, and said good-bye

to her and the donkey, The miracle was com
iilnte. The donkey Htarted oil' in high spirita.
riui woman pu.ihiug the cart from behind.

" Tliat evening the woman came to me in
Xvi H. I uiidei'Htood at once. ' Oh j sir, ho ia
gone poor Pierrot ! Yea, sir, we got to ,St.
Ouen one way or another; but when he came
in sight of our hut he fell on his knees. I
tried to rui.se him, but this time it was all over.
Mv children came running and crying. They
talked to him and ki^Hed him He looked at
them f<o sadly as to break our heurts. I tell
you there are lots of [icople in the world not
worth half so much as poor Pierrot. Tliink of
it: he wanted to ilie at home, after tinishing
his day's work.' Like a soldier who dies after
tiring' Ids last cartridge !

"The rag-picker opened her hand, and I saw
the money I had given her in the morning.
' Here is your hundred francs, sir.'

" I do not know whether I most admired her
or her donkey — the donkey who <lid Jiis duty
to death, or the woman, more delicate than our
charity ! '

The work of the Humane Society is designed
to evoke Ju3t such a feeling of compassionate
sympathy for suffering creatures, and for all
dumb animals, aa was called forth In this touch-
ing case. Children need sympathy too.

The Magic of Coaxing a Horse.

A li'tter from Oregon tells of a horse which
had been vainly urged by whip and abuse to
drag a load to a sawmill, and of an aged
trapper, familiar with the ways and disposition
of animals, coming by and bidding the driver
to desist. He asked the horse's name, and
"John" pricked up his ears when the tiapper
cried coaxingly, " Now, John, what be you
giving this trouble for ? OIT with you !" After
a few pleasant pats, John was olT, much to the
astonishment of the driver.

The trapper's success must have shown him
that those are better served who are loved
rather than dreaded, and that in the end,
" Kindness is wisdom. There aro none iu life
but need it and may learn."

" Flash," the Firemen's Horse.

Flash was a white-foot sorrel, and run on No. 3;
Not much stable manners— an average horse to

see ;
Dull an' moody an' sleepy on "ofT" and quiet

days ;
Full of turb'lent sour looks, an' small sarcastic

ways.

But when, bc't day or night time, he heard the

alarm-bell ring.
He'd rush for his place in the harness w ith a

regular tiger spring ;

KKTUKN 1-OR KINDLY THKATMKNT OF IIOUSKS, KTC.

I*;:

Am'I wat 'h with iicrvoug iihivers the chiHp of

l)iioklu anil lianl,
Until it W118 iihiinly lA-'ili-nt his'd like to Icnil a

lianil.

An' when the word was K>ven, awiiy ho wouM

rush an' trar,
Ah if a thoUHan' witohvH waH runiplin' up liix

iiair,
An' wake hJH mute up crazy with his uiagnutio

I harm ;
For every f<Kjt-heiit souniloil a roguhir fire ahirin I

Nev(!r a horne a jockey would wornliip an' ail-

niire
Like l''laHh in front of his engine, a-racin' with

a tire;
Never a horse so lazy, so (Uiwdlin' an' ho nhiek
Am Fhidii upon liis return trip, a-drawin' the

engine hack.

Now, Flash got tender footed, and Fhisii was

finally sold
To quite a respectable milkman, who fo\iiid it

not so line
A-bossin' of (iod's creatures outside o' the'r

rcg'lar lino.

An' once, in spite of his master, he stroll'd in

'mongst us (•ha])s,
To talk with tlie other horses, of former fires,

perhaps ;
Whereat the milkman kicked him; wherefore,

us hoys to please,
lie begged that horse's pardon upon his bendetl

knees!

But one day for a big fire as we were niakin' a

dash —
Roth of the horses we hail on somewhat reaem-

blin' Flash -
Yellin' an' ringin', with excellent voice and

hoiirt,
We passed the poor old fellow, a-tuggin' away

at his cart.

If ever I see an old horse grow upward into a

new,
If evar I see a driver whose traps behind him

Hew,
'Twas that old horse, a rompin' an' nishin'

down the track.
And that respectable milkman, a try in' to hold

him back !

Away he dashed like a cyclone for the heail of
No. 3,

(iuincd the leail, and kept it, an' steered his

journey free ;
( 'rowilH a yellin' an' runnin', an' vainly hollerin'

"whoa!"
Nidknian braein' an' sawin', with never a bit of

a show.

1I(! watehecl till he see the engine j)roperly

workin' there,
After which he reliminishcd all interest in the

a Hair,
Laid down in his harness, and, soiry I am to

say
The milkman he had drawn there drew his dead

body away I

That's the whole o' my story; I've seen more'n
once or twice,

That poor dinnb animala' actions are full of
human advice;

An' if yon ask what Flash taught, I simply
answer yu» then,

That poor old horse was a symbol of some in-
telligent men. — Will Carliloii.

"Who be Ye ? Wan uv the Humane S'i'ty ?"

A l)air of mudlK'spattered and tired horses
struggled along near the Douglas school one
day. 1 h»! driver, a big Irishman, occaHioniiily
swung a black snake whip in the air and brought
it down on the Hanks of the horses. The wag-
gon was heaped with coal; the street was rough
and uuuldy. .lust opposite the schoolliouse the
waggon swung into a mud-hole. The wheels
sank in the yielding earth and the black snake
hi.s.sed through the air, the horses plunged wild-
ly, and the pole pounded each horse alteinately,
but never an inch did the waggon move. Tlie
driver sawed the lines until the bh)od trickled
from the mouths of the horses. Still the wheels
remained buried in the nnul. The driver climbed
down from his porch. He inspecte(f the wheels
with a critical eye. Kvidently satisfied that
the fault lay with the team, lie resumed the
argument of the black snake. A well-dressed
man sto])ped on the sidewalk.

" Von ought to be arrested for abusing those
horses," he at last remarked. " I'm a mend)er
of the Humane Society, and if you don't stop
beating those horses I'll have you arrested."

"O, yer are, are yez ? Oi'll give yez a taste
o' whi]) yersilf in a minit if ye don't leave."

Crack! crajk ! went the whip again, .liet
then a peal of childish laughter came out of the
school building, and a minute later a throng of
tlie younger pupils appeared, bound for home
They pause I at the sight of the whipped and

1G8

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIRTV,

Htriii{glin^ liornen, ami tlii! Nwingiiif; whi)) piuinml
jiixt a iiiiiiiK'iit. 'I'lit'ii out H|>riiii){ II Itright-uyxil
littii! gill right into tlic iiiiicl in tlit; Htici't.

"Ain't you 'HlianiiMl, yon l)ig, luiil iimn?"
hIu- I'i'iod, wliilc thu wind toHMoil the light In-own
lofkR iibout hor flnithing faco, und tint littlo
hands were cliinclied. " Yon tnunt Htop. "

Tlu< traiuMti'i' panHcd in Hina/.t'ni(>nt. Tho hig
whip tniiliMl in thu mud.

" Wall, wall, wall," hi> ganpod ; " who ho yo,
little un? \\'aii nv the lluuianr S'i'ty?" And
ho trit'd to laugh.

" Yes, I am ; hcre'H my .star. Now plcnao
don't hit them any more," said the little btnuty,
easting a [deading glanee in imitation of tho
arta of more mature womanhood. It waa all
done in a moment. The man on the street had
not even started ff)r a policeman.

" Oi <lon't know what in the world oi kin do,"
desperately answered the hurly teamster, as he
suddenly sat down on the curbstone. Just then
an empty coal waggon came rattling down the
street. "Say, will ye give me a pull?" yelled
tho teamster, spi'inging to his feet.

"Of course," said the other driver. He un-
hitcheil his team and hooked on to tho pole of
the mud-clogged coal waggon. The two teams
pidled together, and, amid the juvenile ap-
plause, the hoavilyladon waggon was landed
high and dry on the pavement of the orosa-
street.

" She's amost loikc little Poppy what's gone,"
said tho driver to himself, as he glanced back
from his seat at the retreating form of tho vic-
torious little girl. 'J'wo little white streams
(!our3cd through the coal dust on his cheeks !—
Chicaijo Daily Xeivx.

"Billy, You Will Try, Won't You?"

"Aunt Amelia" writes from tho Boston High-
lands the following story of an Irish teamster in
touching contrast to the foregoing: —

" One day, as wo stood on our piazza, v j saw
a young Irish youth enter the yard, driving two
horses with a licavily-lr ided waggon of coal.
Tho passage in was steep and wintling, and was
a hard jndl for tlie horses. When about half
way in they gave tmt.

"Tho forward liorsc, whose name was Pdllj',
turned around, as much as to say, ' We can't
drag this any farther; it is no use trying.'

" Hilly tlid not seem to know that a long pull,
and a strong pidl, and a t)u11 all together, was
th<^ best way of getting along in the world.

"The driver led Hilly to his place, and then
took up the reins once more and tried to urge
his team on. But Billy shook his head and
turned around a second time against the wheel-
horse, and would not move a step He looked
around at the waggon, as if he would like to

«'iy, ' I can't move that load, and I won't try
to move it.' The driver then came ami patti'd
Hilly on the head, and coaxed him. He kni'w
that it was a hard tug for Hilly, and so he diil
not either whip or Ht-oid him.

"Hilly shook his head still; and then the
ilriver threw his arms around Billy's neck,
hngued him, gave him two or throe loud kiH.seH
on the face, then led him gently once more to
his place forward.

" ' Hilly,' said he, 'yon will try, won't you?
I want my Hupiier, and yo\i want yours too.
Now try. Hilly.

"Again he took the reins. Hilly lookoil
around at his mastc>r and then at the waggon,
and we know, from his loving looks, that liilly
meant this time to do his best.

" 'Oeo up!' cried the driver; and then Billy
and the wheel-horse, both starting at once,
safely carried up the loaded waggon to its stop-
])ing place at the top of tho hill.

" 'I he driver at onco went up to Billy and
patted him, and kissed him again, with his arms
around his neck, giving him a good, loving hug.

" I think that Billy was glad, and knew that
he had been doing a kind act, Tho driver
emptied the coal, and then started off with
Billy and tho other horse ; and, no doubt, when
he got homo he gave them Iwth a good supper
before he took Ins own.

" He was not only kin<l hearted but wise. If
he had used tho whip it might have l)een an
hour before ho could have got Billy to move.
He knew he could best rule by love.

Whipping till the Horse was " Played Out"!

On ])age 21f) of this |)ublication the Kditor
has pointed out tho necessity for local Humane
Societies. Tho following is a distressing cast^
in point, reported by "G. G." to tho Toronto
Globe of the 13th July, 1888:—

" I had occasion to travel from Kirkfield to
Ix)rne Junction in a buggy with the boy that
carries the mail. As we started I noticed that
his horse moved ott' very reluctantly, and the
driver commenced to apply tho whip with all
his nn'ght, taking him under the flank time
after time, until the poor brute fairly groaned
with pain ; and when I remonstrated with the
driver (a boy of fifteen years) he replied that he
could not help it, tiiat he had t'o make his con-
nections, and that the horse was "played out."
He actually stood up one-third of ttie time dur-
ing the thirteen miles to better enable iiim to
belabor tho poor dumb brute, as he had to make
the distance in two and a-lialf hours to catch
the train; and when I stated that it would pay
his father to hire another one for a month and
turn him out for a rest, the driver replied that
it would pay, that they would save the money
in whips, and that when he urged his father to
sell him and get another, his reply was that
they would not get another to stand it as well.
I examined the horse after wo got down — after
his round trip of twenty six miles — and he was
literally flayed under his stifles with the lash 1
Ho appeared to be a good young horse, \moT in
flesh and driven to death and heart-broken, and
I expected to see him drop every mile we moile."

DKVOTION OK Tin: l)()(i INCIbENT.S AM) SIOKIKM.

Kii)

V. DEVOTION OF THE DOG INCIDENTS AND STORIES.

"Brother Prince," the Firemen's Dog.

I'rinco wax u notvil .Sootuh torrior l)o1onging ti)
tho Firo ne|iai'tiiiont of St. Louis, under ('lii<-f
Snxton. W'hiiri tlio alnrni wum Htrut'li lie wuh nt
unco on thu iilcrt, nnil when tlio iiorm^H woru
itndor woi^h hu would full to tho rear, juiii|> on
the piatfoi'in and rldo u ith tho enKinucr. After
a while he went to Htay with tho chiuf, whero
111) won tliu nttn:i! of In-uthor. Hu was a great

on tho head. Tho grcatlieartud lirivor put on
liii hraku and iitop|)*'il tlii< cart, l>ut it waH too
lato. 'I'ho wheel hail paHHOil over poor IVinco,
and hu Wilt doa<l. A great crowd aitHrinlilnd —
iiK'ii, woini'ii and wecpin;; children. *' i^ittU
I'rincc \h iload !" Hlioiitcd und nuIiIxmI thccx<.'it«d
children, while tender little hatnU bore the
hero (log to the chief 's houao. There weiu no
^niueH next day, for it wum a day of mourning.
In the evening, about u hundruil cliildron, black

A DOO SAVING A SHIPWRKCKEI) CllEW.

favorite with ixll tlie children of the neighbor-
hood and joined in their sports. Prince was
iiuite an expert at baseball, took his place witli
the boys and was obedient to the rules. He
was great at " short stop,' and would catch a
ball in its rapid fli^jht througli the air, and
lioforo it reached the ground. He would al.so
join the little girls in their games of " hide-and-
.seek," or " hy-spy," as they call it. Seldom or
ever was he caught, lie always reaches the
;^o:il or base first.

But little Prince came to a tragic death in
1883. An alarm had sounded at the chief's
house, and Prince bounded to the pavement.
A hose-carriage whirled round the corner and
he ran to jump on it. The horses were strangers
to the little fire dog, and one of them kicked him
12

and white, assembled to bury Prince. In the
middle of a llower bed in tho chief's yard a
grave was dug, and into it, amid sobs and
weeping, tho children lowered the beloved dog
and b\iricd him. Then they covered the place
liver v.ith flowers. — Johonnot (abridged).

A Dog Saving a Shipwrecked Crew.

A gentleman connected with tho Newfound-
land fishery was once possessed of a dog of
singular fidelity and sagai'ity. On one occasion
a boat and a crew in his employ were in cir-
cumstances of considerable peril, just outside a
line of breakers, which, owing to some change
in wind or weather, had, since the departure of
the boat, rendered the return passage through
them most hazardous.

170

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Tlio spectators on shore wcro <|nitE nnaWe to
render any assistance to tlieir friends alloiit.
Much time had been spent, and the danger
Mcenicd to increiise rather than din^inish. Our
friend the dog looked on for a lenytli of time,
evidently aware of theie being a groat cause
for anxiety in those around. PreseuLly, how-
ever, he took to the water, and made his way
through the raging waves to the boat. The
ircw supposed he wished to join them, and made
various attempts to induce him to come aboard;
but no, he wouhl not go within their reach,
but continued swimning about at a short dis-
tance from the boat. After a while, and several
comments on the peculiar conduct of the dog,
one of the hands suddenly divined Ids apparent
meaning, " fJive him the end of a rope," lie
said, " that is wliat he wants." The rope was
thrown, the dog sei73d the end in an instant,
turned round, and made straight for the shore,
where, a few minutes afterwards, boat and crew
— thanks to tlie intelligence of our four-footed
friend— were placed safe and sound !

"Tom," Our Hero Dog.

Yes, Tom's the best fellow that ever you knew.

.Inst listen to tliis : -
When the old null took fire, and the fl loiing

fell tlirough.
Anil I with it, helpless there, full ir. my view,
What do you tliink my eyes saw tlirough tlie (Iri
That crept along, crept along, ni^lierand niglier,
Hut Kol)in, my l)aby boy, laughing to see
The shining ? He must have come there after

me,
Toddleil alone from the cottage witliout
Any one's missing him. Tlicii, wliat a sliout -
Oh ! how I shouted, " i''or Heavi uV sake, men,
Save little Jlr')in I " Again and again
They tried, but the tire lield tiicm liack like a

wad.
1 could hear them go at it, aii.l at it, and rail,
•' \evcr mind, biiby, .sit still like a man I
We're coming to L'ct you as fa.st as we can."
'I'hcy could not M.' him, but 1 could. He ^;it
.Still on a beam, lii.s little straw iiat
(JarefuUy jihiccd by his side ; and his eyes
.Stared at the llame with a baby's .surprise.
Calm and unconscious, as nearer it crept.
'J"he r lar of the fire up above must have kept
The soumi I his mother's voice shrieking his

nami
From re..vhiiig the child. But I heard it. It

came
.^gain and again. Goi'., what a cry !
The axes went faster ; I saw the sp.-irks, hy

Where the men worked like tigers, nor minded

the heat
That scorched them —when, suddenly, there ut

their feet.
The great beams leaned in-- they saw him

then, cra^h,
Down came the wall ! The men made a dash —
Jumped to get out of the way — and I thought,
" All's up with poor little I'obin ! " and brought
Slowly tlie arm that was least hurt to hide
The sight of the child there — when swift, at

my side.
Some one rushed by, and went right through

the flame,
Straight as a dart- caught the child — and then

came
Buck with him, choking and crying, but —

saved !
Saved safi; and sound !

Oh, how the men raved,
.Shouted, and cried, and hurrahed ! Then they

all
Rushed at the work again, lest the 'oack wall
Where I was lying, away from the fire,
Should fall in and bury me.

Oh ! you'd admire
To see Robin now : he's as bright as a dime,
Deep in some mi.schief, too, most of the time.
Tom, it was, saved him. Now, isn't it truc'
Tom's the best fellow that ever you knew ?
There's Robin now I See, he's strong as a log 1
And there comes Tom, too —

Yes, Tom was our dog.
— Constance Fcnimort Woo/.-<oii.

Newfoundland Dogs as Savers of Life.

The valur of dogs of the Newfonndhiiid
species, and, as it might in justice to tlieiu bo
expressed, their benevolence in saving (lersons
from drowning, are v.ell known Instance after
instance of these faithful and courageous act^
arc recorded. J'hese dogs have a natnal love
for water, and do not, therefore, hesitate to
jump in at once to save life at the bidding of
master or friend. One or two are given: .'i
child about si'i year.sold, who was playing on a
wharf with his father's Xewfoandlaiid dog, a('ci
dentally fell into the water. The dog imme
diately spiaiig in and seizing the waist of his
little frock (!arricd him to the dock, anil wilii
great dil.ioulty pulled him greatly exhausted
up a sloping side of it, in the mcantimo barking
loudly for help.

.Another is the case of a planter's widow with
(uie child retmiiin; from Now Orleans. to Ohio.
Her devotior, to the child wax very t'r.chiiig.

DEVOTION OF THE DOG -INCIDENTS AND STORIES,

171

nor mimled
ily, there ut
saw him

lu 11 dash—
il I tliought,
and hrouglit

to hide
en swift, at

ght through

1 — and then

■ying; but—

en raved,
! Then they

! back wall
! fire,

lire

as a dime,
^f the time.
n't it tru e
u knew ?
ong as a Imj; !

our dog.
lore Woo/'<oi).

rs of Life.

owfoiUl(ll;ind
-'c to 11k!?ii be
iving t)ersons
[nstance after
lUML'OOUS ai_-t«i

iiat iial love
3, hesitate to
he bidding of
re given : A

playing on a
md dog, aec'i
le dog iiiinic

Hai.st ')f his
)ck, and witli
,ly exhausted
itiine barking

's widow with
eans.to Ohio,
ery t'.ui-'hing.

The eyes of the old bhiek nurse would fill with
tears as she besought licr inistr'jss not to love
that boy too much, or tiic I./«rd would take him
away from her. We passed through the canal
at Louisville, and stopped a few minutes at the
wharf. Tlie nurse, wishing to get a sight of
the city, walked out on the guard at the back
of the boat, with the babe in her arnia. The
ciiild, while she was standing thus near the
railing, by a sudden clfoit sprang from her
arms into the terrible current that sweeps to-
wards the falls, and instantly sank in the water.
The confusion which en.'^ned attracted the atten-
tion of a gentleman who was sitting' in the fore-

mouth. Bravely he strugcled with the waves,
but it was evident that his strcngtii was fast
failing. More than one breast gave a sigh of
relief as the boat reached him, and it was an-
nounced that he had the child, and that it was
still alive. They were brought on Jjoard— the
dog and the child.

After one fond embrace, one long look to
make sure that the child was really unharmed,
the young mother rushed forward, and, sinking
boside the dog, threw her ariii,< around his neck
and burst into tears.

None could view the sight unmoved ; and as
she caressed and kissed his shaggy head, she

p.irt of the boat i|uietly reading. li'sing ia
haste, he asked for some article tlic child h.id
worn. The nurse haiiilcd him a tiny apron
svhich had been torn nil in her cJlorts to retain
the babe in her arms 'I'liiniiiL; to a splcmliil
.Newfoundland dog tiiat was eagi-rly watrhiii;;
Ilia I'oiuitenancc, tiiu gentkiiian pointed tiist to
t.ie apron, and then to the spot where the elnlil
had gone under. In an instant t)ie noble dcg
leaped into the nishing «:vter, and likewise
disappeared.

I'ly this ti'uo the excitement had b( ccuiie iji-
tcnse ; and some pei'sons on shore, .supiinsing
the dog was lost as well as the child, procured
a boat and .'■tarted oil" to seaiidi for tiie body.

J "at at this moment the dog was seen in the
/ivcr at a distance, with somifliing in his

looked up to his owner, and siid, "Oh, sir, I
must have this dog ! 1 am rirh ; take hundreds
- thousaiuls — whatever you like — but L'ive me
the preserver of my child."

'I'hc gentleii an sndlcd. an 1. i>ittiii'i tlic dog's
head, said, " 1 am V( ly ,i;lad, n;adani, ho lias
bren of sL'ivi -e to \uu. Imt notliin.: in the '.vorld
could iuilnce nie to part with him. "

Tlic dii^ Inoked as if hi' nertcilly uudeistood
what they were talking alioiit. (living hi-^
.ide« a shake, he laid liiinscU down at his nia -
t'-v'> feet witli an expression in his large eyes
that said as plain as words, " No, nothing shall
part us."

The following istance is given in the New
York Sini of Nb.reh 10, 1888:--

172

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY

" The schooner went ashor' off San Buenaven-
ture, C'al., the other day, «■ . the crew were in
danger of being lost. They owe their safety to
a tine, red, Irish setter, that swam out through
the breakers, seized a stake that had been
thrown overboard with a rope attiiched, and
succeeded in carrying it to the shore."

"Old Dandie and Hal and Fred and I."

Kcnd of old Dan, sir ! Indeed I am !

I reckon I ought to be — proud of him too !
Brave as a lion, sir, mild as a lamb,

And the wisest fellow you ever knew !
Just wait till I tell you what he did,

Though it's not to my credit, as you'll see ;
For it came from my doing a thing forbid

That Dandie showed what a dog can be.

We were in the potato patch one day,

Dandie and Hal luid I and Fitxl,
And to save my life I couldn't say

Just how the mischief got into n>y heal.
Father had said we werei l to do it —

But roast potatoes are very good !
And Hal had matches. Before we knew it

We had a bonfire lit in the wood.

Fathers know best on the whole, I guess :

At ad events 1 can -afely say
Twould have kept us out of a jolly mess

If we had believed he did thpo day,
For, not to spin out too long a story,

That youngster you see there — Fred's his
nan-2 —
('ontrived to cover himself t, ith glory

By getting his pukticoats all aflame.

We never thought (,f hia skirts, you see,

For he's just as much of a boy as the rest ;
And, to tell the truth, between you ana me,

It's a silly old way for a boy to be dressed.
Why can't he have trousers right from the
first?

For, of all the " despisable " things to wear,
Those niuimy-piniiny irocks are the worst.

I know how it is, for I've been there.

However, the poor little chap, as I said,

Was all of a blaze— and how he did yell !
Hal began pitching things at his head,

And I stood as if I was under n spell ;
For both of us Int our wits completely,

And only for dear old Dan— well, there —
If you want to know, I'll own up to It sweetly —

I am a crying, and I don't care !

You'd know how it we'll yourself, I think.
If you'd been in my place, and seen old Dan;

He went for that boy, sir, quick as a wink,
(irabbed his frock iu his teeth, and ran

Straight to the l>rook with him, bumpety-bump!

And there the two took a douje together;
By the time we followed him on the jump,

I tell you what, it was squally weather.

Fire was put out, though ! Well, I should smile

(I reckon 1 shouted then for joy) ;
Though, as for Fred, you might walk a mile

And not come up with a madder boy.
Mad as a hornet — and dripping wet !

Such a little scarecrow you never saw !
But hen; 'a a dog, sir, we shan't forget —

Shall we, old fellow ? Give us your paw !

— Si. Nicholas.

Love Me, Love My Dog— the Pathetic Side.

A story is told of a poor man who hail
trudged on foot all the way from Mississippi to
Louisville, Kentucky, to get med' ,al treat-
ment in a hospital there, accompanied by his
dog. When told that he could enter the hospi-
tal, but must abandon his dog and leave him
to take care of himself, the poor man took the
dog in ma arms, and, with tears running down
his faoe, said that he was the best friend he had
in the world, ard he wou|d rather die with his
dog in the streets i Louisville than go to the
hospital and abandon him. To the credit of
the authorities, they gave him a permit to enter
the hospital and take his dog with him.

The Terrier's Big Friend.

A crowd gathered on a wharf in .San Fi aiiLisco
had an opportunity to see u dog rescue another
dog from drowning, and go about his work as
intelligently as if he had been the trained
officer of u humane society.

A small terrier dog fell from the stringer of
the wharf into the bay. He swam around for
some t'Qie in a circle, and many plans were
suggested for his rescue, but none of them
pro-'ed practical. The little creature seemed
doomed to a watery grave, for he was fast be-
coming exhausted.

Just at the moment that all hopes of saving
the terrier were given up, the bark of a dog in
the crowd attracted attention, and there ap-
peared upon the stringer, in front of the wharf,
a large Newfoundland.

He saw the little fellow in the water, and
with a low wail he ran to and fro along the
wharf for a moment or two, and then, to the
surprise of every one present, he sprang into
the water, and at once swam to the terrier.

Ho seized him by the nook with his teeth,
and after swimming about for some time,
sighted the new sea-wall extension, about a
hundred yards distant, for which he headed.

DEVOTION OF THE DOG-INCIDENTS AND STORIES.

173

Upon landing his burden on terra-firma, the
Newfoundland gave two or three sharp barks,
and seemed to be proud of what he had done.
It was some time before the terrier was able to
gain strength to walk away.

" When the Old Dog Died."

Tliere was grieving in tlie woodshed,

In the kitchen tliere were tears,
When morning showed that Tray was dead,

The friend of many years.
Ah ! I can well remember

How the little children cried.
And lifted up tlieir voices

Wlien the old dog died.

They clasped his rough and shaggy neck,

They called his name in vaiu ;
No more when Tommy whistled

Wduld Tray bound forth again.
The children iite no breakfast,

But seated by his side,
They mourned their dearest playmate

When the old dog died.

i'or thirteen summers he had brought

The milch cows home at night,
And all tliat lime he'd watched tlie house

From dark till morning light.
He'd e\en ruck the cradle

With a sort of canine pride,
No wonder tliat the baby wept

When the old dog died.

He'd go lialf W!i}' to soiiool with tliem,

Tiien stand in loiicsuiiie plight,
And lowly wag hia bushy tail

Till tlicy were out of sight,
Tlien trot him home to sleep aud snooze

Within his kennel wide,
But Tommy brought the cattle home

When the old dog died.

Ihcy smoothed that dearohl liead of liis.

And oH'ored milk and meat,
And little 'I'omniy tried to lift

His old fiiend on his feet.
In vain, the old tail wagged no more ;

Then bitterly they ci icd.
Oh ! how the ciiildnii missed liim,

Wlien the old dog died.
— 77it- Khan, iu Torohto Tilii/rtim, Miiy, . 'S'.';.

A Dog's Extraordinary Devotion.

About tlirce or four years ago a railway train
was Hearing tlie city of Montreal, when the en-
gineer fiaw a lurge dog on the track. 'J'le dog
was apparently nuioh excited, and barked furi-
ously at the approaching engine, The engineer

blew the whistle, but still the dog kept on the
track, and just as the engine came upon him
he vas observed to crouch down and extend
himself across the track. In this position he
was struck by the locomotive and killed. The
engineer looking out towards the front of his
engine, saw a piece of white cloth fluttering in
the wind, as it hung on part of the machinery.
At once he stepped out along the side of his
engine and found it to be part of a child's dress.

He stopped the engine — alas, too late! and
backing down, found by the side of the track, not
only the mangled body of the dog, but also the
crushed body of a Jittle child ! At once the
position of afiairs w:is understood. The child
liad evidently wandered upon tlie track, and
fallen asleep there, watched by its faithful
companion, the dog, who, seeing the traia ap-
proach, hail done its beat to save the chih ; but
failing, had covered it with his own body and
died with it. Faithful unto death he ivas, and
died in his effort to save the sleeping child.
Was it instinct or dumb reason?

A Dumb Hero.
It was not an hour after dawn, yet the great
waiting room of the Central Station was full.
The soft morning air blew freshly through
tlie long line of cars and pulling engines. A
faint hum comes from without. It was the
great city awakening for the day. A Scotch
collie belonging to one rf tiie emigrant groups,
went from one to another wagging his tail and

ITIK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

looking up with mild and expressive eyes full
of good-natured friendly feeling. Children
called to liim, .some student.s romped with
him, the ladies jiatted Ids liead, a poor negro
in the corner sliared his meal with him, and
then ho seemed to unite all these dill'ercnt
groups in a common tic of good feeling. While
all this was goiiii^ on, a woman was tvashing
the windo<v.s of some cinjity cars drawn on to
the siding, singing as she rubbed the glass.
VVliilc her back was turned, her chihl, a little
fellow about three years old, ran to the door of
the ear and jumped down on the next track.
Upon this track tiie Eastern Express was com-
ing. Directly in its path was the babe ; a husii of
horror fell upon the crowd. Every eye turned in
the direction, and then a low sob of anguish
went up from tlie paralyzed people. The dog,
witii bead erect (iiid fl.ved eye, saw tlie danger,
and with a bound and a fierce bark darted to-
wards the child. The baby, frightened, started
back. The mother went on washing windows
and singing, a.s the huge engine rushed up abreast
of her car. Tiiere was a crunching noise and a
faint little cry of agony. Even strong men
grew sick at the sound, and turned away.

When they looked again, the baby was tod-
dling across the platform, crowing and laugh-
ing, and the cruslied dead body of a dog lay
on the track. " I'asseugers for F'ittsburg,
Chicago and tluj West. Passengers for Balti-
more, Richmond and the South," so tbi cry
went on, and the surging crowd pa.,sed out,
never to all meet again in this world. But the
faces of men and women were ]>ale, and there
were tears in the eyes of uonie. The poor negro
and the millionaire, tottering old men, aixl
frolicking boys had been helped onward, up-
ward, by the friendly, cheerful life and heroic
death of a duu'.b dog.

Dare we assert tliat when the limp body, sac-
rificed to save the life of another, lay on the
track, the heroic spirit that once aninuited it
was quenched into utter nothingness? — A'ec. /'.
..1/. Tfxld, Maiia.fUfta, Va.

To "Flash," My Dog.

r.oving friend, the gift of, one
Who, hor own Uao faith hath run

Tliroi:gh tny Hwer Uiiture ;
Pe my benediction sair!,
With my hand ujion thy head,

(jcutle fellow-ci'eature ;

Underneath my stroking i-'ind,
Startled eye.'' of !ia/ol Mauri,
Kindling, gro^iing larger.

Up thou leapcst with a spring
Full of praidv and curveting,
Leaping like a charger.

But of thee it shall be said.
This dog watclied beside a bed

Day and night unweary —
Watched within a curtained room
Where no sunbeam broke the glooi.i

Round the sick and weary.

This dog, if a friendly voice
Called him now to blither choice

Than such a chamber keeping,
"Come out," prying from the doer,
Presseth backward as before.

Up against me leaping.

Therefore to this dog will I
Tciulerly, not scornfully.

Render praise and favor :
With my hand upon his head.
Is my benediction said.

Therefore, and forever I

— Mrs. JJroiuniii'j.

Ponto and the Minister.

One afternoon in December, during a thick
snow storm, as I sat by an east window writing
letters, my attention was attracted to a beauti •
ful collie dog sitting very quietly for several
hours at my front gate. As I went out just at
night to put my letters in the post ofKce, I
noticed that tin dog was still there, and on
going towards him I saw at once that he wa.s
in trouble. I spoive to him but he did not
move. I then saw that a large tin pan was
tied closely to his tail and one hind leg. 1 took
my knife fiom my pocket and cut the string.
When he found he was free he began to lick
my hand and bark and roll over in the snow,
and then juminng up began to lick my face.
When I started for the post ollice he trotted
along by my side, and evei-y few ninutes he
would lick my hand, and if I looked at him or
spol'.e to him be would l)ark and jump up and
lick my face, and roll over in tiie .■•now with the
wildest exiuessinns of joy. Wlien I returned
he started "^o go with me. But when I told him
lie iiiust not go, that be must go home, after
licking my hand again, he trotted back across
tlu' vi'la"" '"onimon. On going down street
a"ain .1. ',>■■• ■■■■-. '^er, this same dog came
],.<'.<•: ,; ',; .1 ■o,'-;'< : 1. .■ mmon to meet me, re-
: ' tini I 1 Millie ent ■,, ma of joy and thank-
lal"fc.. - . ■ re ;» -i pt clos.e to me till i

DHVOTION OF TIIH UOG-IXCIDKNTS AN1> >T(JK:i:s.

175

room
glooi.i

Bice
epiiif,',
B doer,

iroiimimj.

iiig a thick
low writ ill!,'
to a beauti •

for several
t out just at
3st otfice, I
ire, and on
that lie was

he did not
in pan was
leg. I took

the string.
;gan to licU
1 the snow ,
:k my face.
; he trotted

■■linntcs hf
!d at iiini or
mnp up and
ow with the

I retui-ncd
n I told him
home, after
back across
lown .street
J dog came
eet nu;, re-

and thank-
o me till f

started for homj. This he l;ept up, and once in tation. I liudt up a gooil tire in the kitchen

every few days lie would come to the house stove and melte<l the ice from liini and dried

and appear di.Siati tied till I miule my appear- him, and made him a nice, soft bed in the attic,

auce, when lie would make the same demon- where lie lay (|uietly till I called him in the

strations as at lirst. Some time in March a morning. After giving him a good, warm

cold sleet storm set in towards night and in- bieakfast, I told him he must go home. He

MKKKtM} TO lOLI.OvV IJIS .IIA-STKR.

creased in violence as dai knrss came o-i. Afte-
ilark I hearil a .strange knockins,; iit tlie back
door. ()n o|)('Ming it *liere stood I'onto in a
sail plii,ht. Hi.s be;uitifid shaggy ''.oat was iill
matted together, iuid his ej'es almost closeii
with ice. He diil not oiler to come in iintil I
invited him, whoti ho gladly a- oipted my invi-

went at -inco, noi forgetting to tliank me toi
my hospitality, in his dog fashion. I'outo and
I reniaiuod tiim friends as long as my home
was in that village. " I would not enter on
uiy list of friends" one who would in any way
ill-treat such a dund> friend as I'onto. J. I'J.
M. lf/'.;/'j/, Barkby, J/a.sv.

176

TUE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETV.

MAKIN(! rtrSSY AliMlUE UbKSKLF.

ILLUSTRATIVE STORIES OF VARIOUS ANIMALS.

I I

VI. ILLUSTRATIVE STORIES OF VARIOUS ANIMALS.

ii,ii

The Cat and the Looking-Glass.

Piisay in the pictuie ilocs not seem to take
kindly to the vanity of ailmiring herself in the
looking-glass. Nor docs .she seem to have that
thir.st for knowledge ua to why siio thns sees
her seeond self heforc her as had one of her
kind mentioned by Mr. R. A. Proctor, in his
"Matnre Studies." Hegives itas an exanipleas
to " how a eat reasoned out the meaning of a

obstacle to liia vengeance, Tom ran round behind
the glass, bnt found no enemy ! So he tame
again to tlie front. Here he iigain found his
foe, on whom he again niiiile an onslaught, only
t ) 1)0 similarly foiled. He repeated hit recon-
iiuii.siuin: two or three tinua « itii the same
unaatislactory result.^. This set I'oni thinking.
The.se repeated failures must have a meaning,
so Tom seems to have reasoned somewhat in
this fashion : Either he was the victim of some
illusion, or the cat behind tlie glass was of an
altogether exceptional a^;tivity. But however

|S:-'I

„;i:ilf

r.lKli- .MAKlNfl FUIKSUS IN TlIK LOOK INO-Ol.ASS.

lihenomenon brought for the lirst time under
iu< notiee. ' He thus describes the ■ >tse ;

A household cat was observed to eii'iT a
lieiliooni which was being cleaned at spring-
time ; a iiiokiiig-glass st^'id on the lloor. and
Tom, on eiiti'i ing fnunil iiimself confronted l'\
an image wiiich he naturally supposed to be an
intrudei- on hia domanis. He m.uie hostiU-
denuinstratiniis as did his image in the glass
Tins wa.s !<illoued by a rush at his opjionent.,
who, notbni.r loth, seemed to lie of the same
mind au<l rushed at him. Finding an apparent

active lie ni,<\- be, 'I'oin must liave reasoned, he
• Mliuot \n\ on tlir fdither side and yet not on
the fartlMT siJe at tlie same moment of time.
So, after further c igitation, Tom deliberately
walked up to the lookiii;,'-glaM3, kee|iing his
eyeit fixed on the image ; tlien when iieiir
eii(iii;.'li to the ed^'e, he reaelied out carefully
with his paw behiiul the glass for the supposed
intruder, while with his head twisteil round to
the '.'ront he assured liimself of the persistence
of tlie rellection. He also must have reeogni/ed
that the looking-glass was not aa it seemed,
transparent, for the paw with which he was

178

THK TORONTO IIUMAN'E SOCIETY.

f< eliiif,' atiout for tlio otlicr oat was not vUildu,
tliou;;li t!it' Muppoacd inlrinlur was in view all
tlio tiiiio. 'I'oin was sati.slicil, and wouM iiovrr
after wards coiidosci'tiil to notice mere relleotioiis
tliou;^ii tlie trap was more tiian oiico set for
liiai." (AbriJye.il.)

Tho same experiment tried in tlio case of
birds hiid a similar, tliongli more pi'icefnl,
etl'cct. But it was not atteiukul by the same
results as to reasoning or demonstration, as
might be expected from the more gentle nature
of the birds. They seem to be making friends
of the birds seen in the picture.

Kitlen and the Falling Leaves.

See the kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws and darts !
First at one, and then its fellow,
Just as light and just as yellow ;
There are niany now, — now ouc —
Now they stop ; and there are none —
What inti'liscness of dusiie
In lier upward eye of (ire!
With a tiger leap hall way
Now siio meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again :
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjuror ;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart.

Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure.
Of her own exceeding pleasure.

— Wonhworth.

The Toronto Humane Society will gladly enrol
aU readers In its list of contributing members.

Rescuers of Pussy.

When I was a young lady, living in the city
of Cleveland, Oliio, I witnessed a most cruel
act. A small kitten had strayed into the
street Some wicked boys liist set a ilog after
it, and then when it vt'as worried almost to
death they poured benzine over it and applied a
ligiited match. The poor little creature had
Ikh'ii so worrie<l liy tlie dog tiiat it was covered
with nnid, and that was all that saved its life,
for the mud would not burn.

Just then there came along a very nicely
dressed gentleman, witli dean clothing and
soft white hanils, and with sharp words of
reproof to the wretched boys, who slunk
away in shanie ; he stooped down and picked
up the muddy, almost e.\])iring liltlc crea-
ture and carried it up into his ollice, where
he was editor and publisher of one of the
largest papers in the .State. J laving taken
it theie he hardly knew what to do with it,
so I asked him to let me take it home with
me. I wrapped it in a pajier, and after
leaching home prepaied some warm soap
suds in a bowl and |)lai i d the kitten in it.
Now you must remember that cats dislike
even to put their feet in water, but this
little kitten seemed to comprehend that I
was trying to relieve it, and stood up in the
water and purrnl wliile I was wasliing it !
What little child could have expressed its
gratitude better than this?
I must add that it became a beautiful little
pet with soft gray and black fur, and «as a
great favorite with the household.— .I7;». G. M
luiirchild.

An instance of a similar resc.ie by a youn"
lady was comniunicateil by Mr. R. C, Hitch-
cook, to the editor of Ouv Dumb Animalu, as
folhuts ; —

" I was walking down the avenue near the
Providence depot, when I saw a < (niple of little
nigged 'gamins' run up the endiiinkment, pull
ing after them a miserable liittull iiy a, string
tied around its neck

"I started in piir.suit but it was a 'stern
chiise.'aiid the proli.iliilitieH timt at least one of
the 'nine lives ' would be elioked out ot the poor
victim before I could get to the rescue. Hut
kind Providence was looking out for the cat.
As they neaied the corner of the station a
lady, well dressed and of dignitiod carriage,
turned the corner. A glance, and she took'in
tho .situation. .She formed herself into a W(dl
orgatdzed S. P. C. A. on the spot, and dropping
her parasol, she seized the tsvo young Xeros
with a vigor which a.stoiiished then' ; and the
shake they got wouhl have done the editor of
Our Dinnh Anhnn/x good to see. A few forci-
ble worrls of advice, and they were oil', sadder
and perhaps wiser boys.

ILLUSTRATIVE STOltlUS OF VARIOUS ANIMALS.

iry

" Tlio lady picked up h«r parasol, tlion lookoJ
lit the poor little parcel of fur-coverod bones.
'Hero waH a clilcinina. If tliu cat4u had been my
own I Would have been entirely at a loss. A
starved cat is hardly a piece of portable pro-
perty to be coveted. IJut the champion was no
iialf rescuer. She stooped — the poor bcdral)bled
wretch v;aa divested of his torturing string and
taken in her arms. She walked away, tlie lo.se
of indignation still bloonung on her cheek, but
dignity restored. I could only doll' my hat and
say, 'Thank you,' as I mot her, wishing in my
heart that eveiy perstcuted brute might find a
true-hearted Boston girl like lier as a defender. "

Mr. Angell mentions another case: —

" I was glad to read, the other day, what tv\ o
brave English youths did to prevent cruelty to
a cat which three wicked boys had stolen, and
having tied a string to her neck, were, for fun,
tlirowing her into a broad ditch of water and
then dragging her out. Those two brave youths
were smaller than the cat's persecutors, and
tli<!y offereil to give all the money they both
IukI — about a shilling -if they would let the
cat go; but tlieso boys only laughed at them
and refused. Finding there was no otlier way
to save the cat, they both suddcidy rushed on
the l)ig boy and pitched him into the ditch
where he had Ijoen throwing the cat; then they
rushed with such force at the one who was hold-
ing the cat that ho ilropped her; then they
rushed at the tiiird one, and ho ran away; anil
then they picked up the cat ami ran away them-
selves l)efore the cruel boys could get ready to
follow. It was a brave bittle, fouglit against
great odds, for the prevention of cruelty to ani
mals, and 1 think the boys who did it deserve
to be made kniglits of the legion of honor as
nuich as any man who ever fought on battlefield.

The Homeless Cat and the Schoolboy.

A lady teacher in a Boston pul)lic school had
a homeless cat come into her schoolroom. She
fed it ; of course treated it kindly, and the cat
became a regular attendant at her school. Soon
all her scholars showed an interest in it. They
would ask the privilegoof taking it to their seats,
which was granted, often as a reward to the
deserving ; but the boys would also desire it as a
favor. With some words of caution it was often
granted, and the pet was never abused by them.
Who can tell how far and how long such a lesson
of practical kindness will bo felt in the lives of
all the children who saw it and shared in it '/

Little GuEtava and Her Pets.

Little Gustava sits in tiie sun,

Safe in the porch, and the little drops run

Kroni the icicles under the caves. . . .

{']) comes her littlo gray, coaxing cat, [thatV
With her little pink no.-ie,iind8he mews " What's
<iustav . feeds her- she begs for more;
And a little brown hen walks in at the door:
"Good day !" cries little Gustava.

Siie scatters crumbs foi' the little lirnwii hm,
Then comes a rush auil a ilutter, and liicri
Down lly lier little white doves so sweei.
With their snowy wings and their crimson feet .
" Welcome !" erics little (iustiiva.

Kitty and terrier, Biddy and doves,
All things h:uinlcss (iustava love.s.
The shy, kind creatures '„is joy to feed.
And, oh 1 her breakf.ist is sweet indeed
To happy little (iustava.

— Ctlia Thaxter.

A peculiarity in this case was that the cat
attached itself to one of the boys, and with
whom it would go anywhere, and for whom it
would leave every one else, including the
teacher. When all heads were bent in devotion
it would step over or pass by others to rub it-
self against him, and to lay its hca<l upon his
neck, as he bowed bis head in prayer.

The Humane Prince, " Unser Fritz."

In the Toronto Em/iire of the Idth June, 1888,
the following, amongst other telegraphic items
from a special ccMitispondent, in Berlin, of a
New York jinpcr, rt^garding the beloved Km-
peror Frederick, appears. It .shows that as a
young prince he was both kind and luimare.

"On a triin coming trom Potsdam early this
morning" [ISth .junej "a higldy respectabli;
woman in my compartment was ciying with
such sxlraordinary bitterness tliat 1 spoKe to
her. She said that she had lost the best fricn,
in the world. 'Sir,' sin; added, 'I am in the
im|)erial kitidicn, where I have been for twenty-
four years. I drove a milk cart when I was a

180

TllK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIKTY.

j^irl, ami onco, when I was survin;{ my cimtoiii-
ei'H, I iKiHHud tlii'iiii;^h 11 UMi'iiur uf tlio royal juvrk,
Tiui tliuii I'rinco tVodorick waa walking llioro
witli his yoiiii)^ hriilo, tlio I'riiiuuas Viotoriu of
Eimlaiid. Tliu do;,' that drow my cart was tirod
and vmild not n<>, so I whi[)[)t;d him. TIk!
Prince came forward at once and pattud the
do^ on the head; tlion he a»kud inu liow much
1 would ^ain by Kollin;{ my milk, ami i told
him ten mitrka. I diil not knotv who he w:ui.
H<i anked mo not to heat the doi(, Imt to take
it home and give it a good rent anil a good meal,
and 1 would lose nothing. l[e Heenied ho gentle
and good that 1 obeyed him witlioiit iiue^tion,
and the following morning an ollicer bronght
me a present of a thouttand m irks from the
J'rince, who was afterwanla the Kmperor l''red-
eriok ! From that beginning 1 got into service
in the ])alace. His heart was aa guud and kind
us it was bnive.' "

The Frolic and Chatter of Squirrels.

Did you ever watch the alert little squirrel ?
He loves to linger, sitting upright on the top-
most stone of the wall, his tail conforming to
the curve of his back. ... He is a pretty sight,

and awkward, and what a poor show for a
tail ! Look at me, look at me ! " and he cupem
about in his beat stylo. Again he would aeem
to tease you and provoke your attention ; thco
suddenly assumes a tone of good-natured, child
like deliauce and derision.

That pretty little imp the chipmunk will sit
on the atone above his retreat and defy you, ua
plainly aa if he said sc, to catch him before he
can get into his hole, if you can. You attempt it;
but "no, you can't," cornea up from tho depth
of hia little den. — John Burrouyha (abridijcd).

Memories of Drowning the Squirrel.

When I waa about six ycara old, aa I was
going to school one morning, a grovind scinirrcl
run into its hole in the path before me 1
thought now I will have fine fun. As there was
a stream of water just at hand, I determined
to pour water into the hole till it should be full,
and force tho little animal up, ao that I might
kill it. I got a trough from beside a sugar-
maple, used for catching the sweet sap, and was
soon ])ouring the water in on the poor sijuirnd.
I could hear it struggling to gut up, and said,
"All, my fellow, I will soon have you out now."

Just then I heard a voice behind me, "Well,
my boy, what have you got in there?" I
turned and saw one of my neighbors, a good

with his pert bright appearance . . . [as he
whisks about upon the wallj.

At home in the woods ho is most frrdicsome
and loquacious. If, after contemplating any-
thing unusual, he concludes it not dangerous, it
excites his unboundeil mirth and ridicule, and
he snickers and chatters, hardly able to contuin
himself ; now darting up the trunk of a tree
and s(]uealing in derision, then In pping into
position uu u limb and dancing to the music of
his own cackle, and all for your special benefit.
There is something very human in this appar-
ent mirth aiid mockery of the S(iuirrel3. It
seems a sort of ironical laughter, and im-
plies self-conscious pride and exultation in
the laughter. " Wiiat a ridiculous thing youare,
to be sure!" he seems to say; " how clumsy

old mail, with long white Io(U.m, that had seen
sixty winters. " Why, "said 1, "I haveaground
S(]uirrel, and am going to ilrown him out."

Said he, " Jonathan, when 1 was a little boy,
I was engaged one day in drowning a ground
s(iuirrel, and an old man came along, and said to
me, ' Your are a little boy ; now, if you were
down in a narrow hole like that, and I siiould
come along and pour wiitei- down on you to
drown 30U, wouhl you not think I vas 1. uel ?
(iod made that little squirrel and life is sweet
to it as it is to you ; and why will you t<ii't"re
to deatli a little innocent creature that (!od
has iiiiide ? ' He then added, "I never have
forgotten that, and never shall. I never have
killed any harmless creature for tun since.
Now, my dear boy, I want you to bear this in

ILLUSTRATIVE STOlUKa OK VARIOUS ANIMALS.

181

mintl while you live, and when temptcl to l^ill
any poor little innocent niiiinal or binl, renicni
Imf that (i(i<l ilocH not allow u8 to kill Ilia
iToatitroH for fun."

More than forty years have paRHcd, and I
liave never forgotten w hat tlic j^ood man HiM,
nor have I ever killed an animal since for fu'..
— .1 Hon.

Squirrels in the Horlirultural Gardens.

Alder-nan I'ipcr has iiiid Hniall wooden houses
placed in the trees of the Horticultural (lur
dens, Toronto, for the siielter and liomi's of a
number oi Hi|uirrel8 whicii ho has let loose in
the gardeny It is to bo hoped that the hii-
iiiano lesson x\ 'lich this act teaches, will not be
lost upon the boys wtio frequent these gaidoiiH.

Rescuing a Drowning Fly.

In yonder vase, behold a drowning fly !
Its little feet, liow vainly dues it ply !
Its cries 1 understand not, yet it criea.
And tender hearts can feci its agonies.
Poor helpless victim ! . .

is there no friendly hand, no helper nigh?
And must thou, little struggler, must thou die?
Thou shalt not, wliile this hand can set tliee

free,
That shalt not die — this hand sliall rescue tl\eo ;
My tinger's tip sliall form a fiienilly shore —
There, trembler, all thy dangers now are o'er ;
Wipe thy wet wings, and banish all thy fear;
(io join thy buzzing brothers in the air. —

Away it flies— resumes its hannlees play,
And sweetly gamltols in the golden ray.

-Anon.

The Fairy Nets of the Spider.

John Burroughs, in his "Autunm Tide.","
thus discourses about the spiders in the fall: —

"Looking athwart tiie fields under the sink-
ing sun, tlie ground appears covered with a
shining veil of gossamer. A fairy net, invisilde
at mi<lday, rests upon the .stul>ble and upon tlic
spears of grass, covering acres in extent — the
work of innumerable spiders. . . . At the same
time stretching from the tops and branches of
trees, or from the top of a stake in the fence,
may bo seen the cables of the (lying spider —a
fairy bridge from the vi^dble to the invisible. . .
They recall a verso by Walt Whitman : —

" ' A noiseless, patient spider,

I niark'd where in a little promontory it stood
isolated :

Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast sur-
rounding,

It launched forth hlamcnt, filament, filament
out of itself ;

Ever unreel'- g them- ever tirelessly spreading
them.'"

Another writer thus defends the spider : —
".Strange, as some people may think it, the
spider is really a very ustful creature. Wu own
to it the destriit tion of numerous inseets tliat
would inflict on us the nioNt Kcrious injury. . .
Kvun,a8itis,and inspitenf innumerable spicli^rN,
as well as birds, farmers sometimes lose largely
by the damages indicted on their croiis liy parti-

cular kinds of small insects. . . The web of the
common garden spider is a very beautiful
.sti'ucture, being composed of silken threads
arranged like the spokes of a wheel, crossed at
intervahi )y spiral filaments. . . These silken
thieads .-.e in reality composed of numero\is
thrcails twisted together in a kind of cable by
the spinnerets of the spider."

The Grasshopper and the Cricket.

(ireen little vaultcr in the sunny grass.

Catching your heart up in the fields of .Tunc,
Sole voice tliat's hr.ird amidst the lazy imon
When even the bee> lag at the summoning

brass ;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
With those that think the candle conies too

soon.
Loving the lire, and with your tricksome tune
Xick the glad silent moments as they pass ;
O sweet and tiny cousins, that belong.

One to the fields, the other to the hearth !
Both have your sunshine ; both, though small,

are stront;
To sing to thoughtful years this nat.iral song —
In doors and out, summer and winter— mirth.

— Leigh HwU.

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, h.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

182

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY;

i'l

i "i:
1 U

II ii

"houseless, homeless, motheuless."

This touchlngly eMpreasIve picture of ono plia?c of waif-life is by Oustave Dorf. Exporlem-e has ofien proved,
however, tliat oven such a sad ami forlorn face a? lliat of the desoiate sistcr-niothcr in tho unKravlng can, under Chris-
tian cire and culture, hocoiiic as beautiful as that of the girl's, shown on the opposite page.

PAET IV.
THE HUMANE EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.

I. THE TEACHING OF KINDNESS AND MERCY.

■'5

A Face of Gentleness and Beauty.

Beautiful face=! are those that wear —
It matters little if dark or fair —
Whole-souled honesty printed there.

Beautiful ej'es arc those that show,

Like erystal panes where earth-fires glow,

Beautiful thoughts that burn below.

Beautiful lips are those whose words
Leap from tiie heart like songs of birds,
Yet whose utterant^e prudence girds.

Beautiful hands arc those that do

W'oik that is carucst and brave and true,

Moment by moment the long day through.

184

THE TORONTO KUMANE SOCIKTY.

ISeautiful foct are thoso that go

Ou kindly ministry to and fro,

Down lowliest ways, if God wills it so.

Beautiful shoulders are those that bear
Coascless burdens of homely care
Witli patience, grace and daily prayer.

Beautiful lives are those that bless—

Silent rivers of happiness.

Whose hidden fountains but few may guess.

Beautiful twilight at set of sun,
Beautiful goal with race well run,
Beautiful rest with work well done.

Beautiful graves where grasses creep,
Where brown leaves fall, where drifts lie deep
Over worn-out hands — oh, beautiful sleep.

— A non.

Why is it Desirable to Teach Kindness
tovrards Dumb Auimals?

1st. Public health requires kind treatment to
give us wholesome meats — and milk, and milk
products that are not poisonous.

2nd. Agriculture requires the protection of
our insect-eating birds and their nests.

3rd. Gratit'.iue requires it for the servicer
tliey render us, and the happiness thoy bring
into our lives.

4th. Duty to God who created and gave them
requires it.

.^th. BecauFe it adds to the happiness of
every human being through life to love and be
kind to the lower animals.

(ith. Because it has been proved in numerous
scliools of various nations that those taught to
be doing kind acts daily to the lower races —
feeding the birds, patting the horses, talking
kindly to all sensitive creatures, etc. — become
in all the relations of life, better men and
women. — Oeorge T. Angell.

Do Animals Reciprocate Our Kiidnessr

Mrs. Marion Clement, of Williamstow'n,
Massachusetts, thus replies to this question in
the New Orleans Picaunn: —

" I have already made mention of the instinc-
tive appreciation and gratitude animals feel and
show toward people wlio are kind to them. All of
ns have heard and read of this trutli, and most of
us have seen it. I will relate a true atory, in
my own experience, which verifies all that has
ever been stated as regards the wonderful rea-
soning powers, the touching and beautiful
gratitude and keen intuitions of the canine
race.

" Three years ago at this time I was boarding
at a hotel, adjoining which was a large house

owned by a liveryman, who also owned several
dogs. One was of a pepper-and-salt color, !>nd
anotlier was a scragtjy, yellow, homely pup,
good sized, but thin with hung. , wiry hair,
stub tail, clipped curd, and a regular yagabond
do};, (..-. 'Vvi' aa appearance was concerned. But
that disreputable exterior covered a (canine)
heart of gold. Every morning, after l>reakfaat,
1 always went to tlie stable to pet my beloved
horses and my family of cats, and the first time
I saw the neglccteil <logs was in one of my
usual trips to my equine darlings. At the
back kitchen door, where I passed through,
stood two great barrels where all the waste food
was thrown. One morning I saw these two
hungry creatnres standing on tiieir hind legs,
trying to reach into tlie barrel in vain. They
ran when tliey saw me, expecting a kick and a
harsh command to 'get out,' tlie usiuil unkind
usage they received. I picked up some bones
and nice, large pieces of meat and called them.
Both were afraid and wo'dd not return, though
my yellow favorite wanted to, oh, so badly, for
he came a few steps, wriggled and smirked (that
word just expresses it), and finally, on my
repeatedly calling him in low, soft loving tones,
he came to me. I patted and talked to him,
and his delight was boundleas. 1 then fed him
all he could eat, and it did me good, gave ine
hearty pleasure to see that loving, friendless,
half-starved dog enjoy his treat All through
his meal he wriggled and kept lapping my
hands, hungry as he was, in excess of gratitude
to me. The other dog was pleasant, but noth-
ing so loving 01 lovable as this one. For several
days after I was ill, and so did not see my young
canine friend and protege, though I often
thought of and worried about him, fearing ho
was hungry. When well cgain, I one morning
walked down to the post otHce, and only a few
steps from the hotel 1 heard a queer kind of
hesitating, scufHing noise right behind me. I
did not look back, supposing it some child at
play. Again I heard it, close to my heels, but
thought nothing of it. The third time that
strange hesitating patter, patter, came close to
my side. Then 1 looked down, and there, with
his black eyes fairly speaking his love and de-
light at seeing me, his 8tun>p tail beating the
air, wriggling enough to turn inside out, was
my quondam friend of the swill-barrel episode.
He crouched at my feet, licked my boots,
whined aloud in his excessive dog-delight, and
would not leave me. I have rarely seen such
love manifested by any breathing thing as he
then and ever after showed to me. And did I
not feel and appreciate this poor, forlorn crea-
ture's touching thai.ks and gratitude? Ah, yes,
indeed ; far more than I can express. Up, would
not leave me. He loved and clung to me, know-
ing I was his only friend. My eyes grew dim
and my heart ached to see the inexpressibly
touching worship given me for only one act of
kindness to him. It was most remarkable also
that he should have known me after an interval
of several days, just seeing me pass by, not even
hearing my voice or seeing my face, which was
veiled. He had never seen me luit that once
when I had fed him. Such a memory and in-
stincts in a young, strange mongrel was truly
wonderful. After that fused to see and feed
him daily, and his touching devotion to mv

THE TEACHING OF KINDNESS AND MERCY.

185

grow stronger each day- Usually the contents
(if the barrel were frozen, hut get it for my dear
ilogf^y I would, tiiough ' 1 died in the attempt.'
1 nearly ruined my new driving gloves in this
way, so I then pulled tiiem oil' and dug out what
1 wanted with my bare fingers. '1 hus I be-
friended my dear little loving friend ail through
that cold winter; and wlieu I left tiie hotel,
just before the winter ended, I worried about
liim Hadly, knowing how his loyal, devoted heart
would miss and grieve for me. What finally
became of him I never f-mnd out.

"Ah, mo ! if all of my own race whom I have
befriended had given me t.'ie true, staunch hive
a:;d return that my canine friend did, hajipy
indeed would I have been. But there is no cre-
ated thing that is so faithful, grateful and un-
dyingly loyal as a true dog. '''hey love and
stand by us when all the world hates or perse-
cutes, or casts us off. I love and appreciate
and respcc* them beyond words to e:;press."

The following anonymous article on the same
subject is taken from the Upper Canada Journal
of Edxication for November, 1802 — a periodical
of which the Er'itor of this publication was
ICditor for nearly tliirty years : —

" I was sitting with my little r.oi! on my knee
cme day, when in comes Jack, a very favored
member of our household —an individual of the
l\ighly respectable tribe, or clan, of Terrier.
Enters Jack, I say, and presents aims in the
luoat approved style, by placing the fore-paws
on the knee the boy is not on, and looking up
with untold aftection out of his deep, luminous
eyes, as much as to say, ' Yours respectfully,
sir.' I must confess that the dog sneaks nearly
as plainly as the boy, though dumbly. And
just to try the poor fellov I talked to him very
liarnestly, and half reproaciifully, said : ' Now
Jack, you car. talk ; why don't you talk? just
speak out and say something ; try, for once.'
And even the boy takes it up, and patting Jack
with his little hand, says with authority, ' Jat,
ta'ut. ' But J ack, poor dumb dog ! does try his
l>e3t, yet can't speak a word ; and it is a pitiful
.sight, enough to start the tears, to hear his de-
precating", half-whine, half-bark, and to see him
increase the rolling of his head, with its cropped
ears, and his paws beating time, as he lifts now
one, now the other, quickly alternating ; and
above all, to look upon those eyes, now all
aglow, rolling in a liquid brilliancy — not to
look upon them so nuich as down into them —
into their fiery depths — as into glowing jewels,
melting rubies, and seeing that in them v/hich in
human eyes we say betokens genius, the light
;)f a noble sou). Thus, Jack looking up, and
speaking sn eloquently in his dumb way, with
liis paws upon my knee, actually thrilled me
with the sudden thoughts presented thus by his
acts— wny has not Jack somethitig more than
nil re mortality ? why cannot he have leave to
open his mouth, and speak with loosened tongue,
since now ho speaks by signs you cannot mis-
take ? why must he lie down and die, and those
i-yes, brighter tiian any human eyes, go out in
utter darkness forever? why do you call that
instinct in him, which in the human you call
soul or spirit, because, iorsooth, tiie me has
13

permission to speak, and speech in the other is
a life-long prisoner? Has he no moral sonee
back of those eyes ? When I look on my terrier,
and watch him thus, his inability to speak in
ills own defence, his infirmity, in short, pleads
with me, and tells me to be gentle with nim —
to kindly oiitreat him — to sp-ak to him as a
friend — and above all, not to lorget to feed him.
Aiul I am reminded that caresses will not bo
lost on him, as upon some two-legged dogs 1
know of ; that soft words will not bo wasted
upon him, as upon them ; and that he will lick
tlie feet, and not wound the heart of his friend
and benefactor.

"I A-ould blush in shame to lose a dog's re-
spect, much more to have a dog fear and hate
me, because I was more of a brite than he, and
had a heart less tender and humane than his
own ; more than all, I would be ashamed to de-
moralize the dog, by showing him that passion
which will have the same efl'ect on him as upon
the child — to awaken the same unruly passion
in him who suffers by its exhibition. Kindness
to animals is kindness to yourself. You great
boy there beating your dog — stop that con-
temptible work I I wish sometimes that dogs
could speak, so that they could testify in courts
of justice, and fill up our ho'ises of refuge with
young and bad-tempered tyrants. There now,
Jack, I feel better. I have said a word for you,
and I see it in your eyes that you are very
grateful.

" In conclusion, he who has not seen ' Spare
Hours,' and ' llab' (the Dog) 'and His Friends,'
by Dr. John Brown, has good, cheerful, enter-
taining volumes yet to read. Thank you, Dr.
Brown, in the name of our Jack, who, with his
wagging tail and watching eye, seems to suspect
that we are taking his part against somebody,
and adopts this quiet method of giving us a vote
of thanks, which we pass over heartily to the
aforesaid physician of Edinburgh."

The same writer, touching on another and
truly practical part of the subject, says :—

" I wish that the Christians thought more of
our animals than we do ; it is not too humble a
subject for our piety to get down to. If wo
believe that there is no state of future recom-
pense for suffering beasts, we ought to treat
them as well as may be in this present State.

" There is the horse, for instance ; noble
beast, and much abused. I feel a wliole in-
dignant essay within me on his behalf, but it
must be repressed. The kind gentleman, the
('ountry Parson, nas spoken many a good word
for liim, for wliich I feel personally indebted ;
but above all, honor to Ilarey, wlio is a real
"Howard, and who ought to be a Christian.
Here is his great principle, though not in his
precise words. ' He that woid<l break a horse
must first break himself.' My friends, break
yourselves; learn to govern your own spirits
and tempers with absolute mastery, and then
only are you fit to govern beast or man. I name
li.iast first, for it is easier to play the tyrant on
the beast than on the man, who may return
your angry stroke.

" I might say a word about our chickens— the
lays they sing— and the thanks they cluck and
cackle, when I let them out of the coop for the

186

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIKTY.

pi
i?t:

^14

fires* parade, after I uoiiie down from the stiuly
i.i the evening ; and liow they rcciproe ite kind-
ness, and know who to lie afraid of ; yea, even
the little tha])H whose feathers arc ilown as yet,
and who soon learn to reeogni/.e a friendly hand,
although they are very ticklish about being
touciied— what we call touchy."

Another writer mentions this incident :--

" Some years a','o I was walking near Boston
and found a cow tied witii a ro])e to a tree.
■Somehow she had contrived to wind herself up
in the rope, and lay on the ground helpless.
After much exertion I succeeded in getting iier
unwound and on her feet. Then she turned
her neck comf)letely around to where I wa&
standing and lickecl my coat sleeve with her
tongue. Was she not grateful ?"

Francesco and Rosoletta.

The third ))ook of the Irish National Readers
contains the following expressive story: —

" Franct!sco Michelo, son of a carpenter in
Sardinia, liad a remarkable faculty for training
animals and birds, and they became very mueli
i! ttached to him. Among some partridges which
he trained was one which he culled Rosoletta.
On one occasion it did good service. A beauti-
ful goldfinch had strayed from its cage, and wiis
lost in a neighboring garden. Francesco was
in despair at the loss, because it was a good per-
fornier, and he had promised it to the daughter
of a lady from whom he had received much
kindness. On the sixth morning after the gold-
finch had escajied, Rosoletta, the tame and in-
telligent partridge, was seen chasing the truant
bird before her, along the top of the lime trees,
towards home ; afterwards she led the v/ay by
little and little before him, and at length, get-
ting him homo, seated him, in apparent disgrace,
in a corner of the aviary, whilst she &e\v from
side to side in triumph at her success.

•' Francesco was happy and contented, since,
l)y his own industry and exertions, he was en-
abled to support his mother and sisters. Un-
fortunately, liowever, he one evening ate a toad-
stool instead of the edible mushroom, and died
in a few days, in spite of every remedy which
skill could apply. During the three days of
Francesco's illness his birds flew incessantly
round and round his bed, some lying sadly upon
his pillow; others flitting backwards and for-
warii'3 above his head ; a few uttering brief but
plaintive cries ; and all taking Eca.cjly any nour-
ishment.

"The death ( ' Francesco showed in a remar!:-
able manner what afTcctions may be excited in
birds or animals by a course of ge.itle treatment,
Francesco's birds appeared t ) be sensible of the
loss of a benefactor ; but none of his feathered
favorites showed at his death such real and dis-
consolate grief as Rosoletta. \Vlien poor Fran-
cesco was placed in his coffin she flew round it,
and at last perched upon the lid. In vain they
tried to drive her away, but she still returned,
and then forsook the spot no more, except to
return to the c ittage of his mother for her ac-
customed food. While that mother lived she
came daily to perch and to sleep upon the turret

of the chapel, which looked upon his grave.
Here she lived, and here she died about four
months aftcrward.M."

An Old Woman Saved by a Bird.

I'll tell you a story, children —

A story you've never heard —
Of a woman who livd in a hovel,

Whose life was saved by a bird :
A woman so poor aiul lonely,

With notliing to make life sweet,
Working, and toiling, and striving.

With, barely enough to oat.

And once she was faint with hunger,

Weary, anil wasted, and ill.
And lay on the floor of her hovel,

Clay-cold, and white, and still ;
And the bird was singing about her,

And flying about aiul around.
And perching on head and shoulder.

And hearing no loving sound; —

bird, of what are j'ou thinking ?

bird, shall we never know ?
You fluttered your wings in terror !

Your pretty eyes glistened so !
You fluttered and ruftled your feathers.

And sang with a frightened cry.
And then yon rushed through the window

Away between earth and sky.

And every creature that met you.

You called with a piercing call.
And ruflled and fluttered your feathers.

And tried to ajjpeal to them all.
But never a one wov.M heed you,

For how could they guess or know
That a bird was asking their succor

For the woman who loved it so ?

Back flew the bird in its terror —

Back to the hovel again ;
And 'tis asking all whom it passes,

And asking them all in vain,
Till near the hovel there met her

A girl with innocent grace.
And a hand that was always ready,

And a sweet little pitying face.

And it fluttered and flow about her.

And cried a despairing cry,
And flew away to the hovel,

And back to the girl did fly.
And the girl looked up with wonder,

But able to understand ;
For the quick perceptive spirit ;_

Still goes with the comforting hand.

THE TE.-CHING OF KINDNESS AND MERCY.

187

So the two went into the hovel,

And life went in with them tliere ;
For death could not hold the creature

Of whom a bird took such care.
And all who heard the sweet story

Did comfort and aid impart,
Witli work for the willing tin)i;er8,

And love for the kindly heart.

Saved by a Toronto Collie Dog.

The Toronto Evening Nervs of the 26th June,
1888, mentions the following incident. It is
another illustration of the humane instincts, or
"dumb reason," of an intelligent collie dog: —

"A little boy, son of Mr. J. F. Hewer, grocer,
was run over and trampled upon by cattle near
the comer of Queen and Penning streets this
forenoon. The little fellow was crossing the
road, vlien he was struck by one of a herd of
cattle that were being driven eastward, and
one of the animals stepped on his right arm,
breaking one of the bones in his wrist. Had it
not been for the interference of an intelligent
collie dog the boy would probably have been
trampled to death. The dog ran to the boy
and scattered the cattle rigl.*; and left, remain-
ing at his side until he was safely removed to
the sidewalk. Dr. Ogden dressed his injury
and sent him home."

How Best to Inculcate Kindness and Mercy.

" The quality of mercy is not strain'd ;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blcss'd ;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that taltes:
'Tia mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown."

—Shakespeare.

" If we knew what forms were tainting
For the shade that we shonid fling ;
If we Icnew what lips arc parching

For the water we could bring,
We would haste with eager footsteps,
We would work with willing hands,
Bearing cups of cooling water,
Planting rows of shading palms."

—Anon.

In an address on the means of inculcating
the duty and pleasure of kindness and mercy,
Mr. Angell said :—

" We have long ago found that the great
remedy for all these wrongs lies, not in law and
prosecuting officers, but in the public and pri-
vate schools ; that a thousand cases of cruelty
can be prevented by kind words and humane
education, for every one that can be prevented
by prosecution ; and that if we are ever going
to accomplish anything of permanent value for
the protection of those whom our Societies are
organized to protect, it must be through the
kind assistance of the teachers in our public
and private schools.

"Wefoundanotherimportantfact — that when
children were taught to be kind to animals, to

Bpare in sprint; time the mother-bird with its
nest full of young, to pat the horses, and play
with the dogs, and speak kindly to all harmless
living creatures, they became more kiiid, not
only to animals, but also io each other."

" I detect
More good than evil in humanity.
Love lights more fires than hat? extinguishes,
And men grow better as the world grows old."

—0. W. Holmes.

What a world would ours become did mercy
reign! The old would lean upon the young
and strong, the happy would share their sun-
shine with the sorrowing, and the deserted
child would find loving mothers. The dunib
beasts would need no voice to proclaim their
woes, the very forests would sing for joy, the
flowers bloom where blood was shed, and the
love-birds nest in the cannon's mouth, for
"mercy and peace have kissed each other." —
Mrs. Schaffter, of New Orleans,

m^
,*;-

"— vV^'!

Birds My Teachers.

Ring dove! resting serenely calm,

Tell my bosom thy secret balm.
Blackbird ! straining thy tuneful throat,
Teach my spirit thy thankfi.! note.

Eagle ! cleaving the vaulted sky,

Help my nature to soar so high.
Skylark ! winging thy way to heaven,

Be thy track to my spirit given !

—Anon.

188

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

i'J

.. Ir

1lt

"bU, NAUGUW rUSSY, SEE HOW YOU'VE UUETED ME,"

r^^T:- -.^

COUNSELS TO PARENTS ON HUMANE EDUCATION.

180

II. COUNSELS TO PARENTS ON HUMANE EDUCATION.

' Our liniiiestcod had an aiii|)le hearth,

Wlicru at iii)(ht we loved to meet ;
There my iDother's voice Wtt« alwaj* klnJ,

And her miille won alwa\a sweet ;
And there I've sat on my father's knee.

And wutdicd his thouj^httul brow,
With my childish liond in his raven hair—

That hair is silver now I
r.ut that bi'oad hearth's liKht,
Oh, that brood hearth's light 1

And my father's look, and my mother's smilo,

Tiioy are in my heart tonl){ht!"

— I'liirbe. Carij,

A Mother's Humane Instruction of Children.

" From ' eight to sixteen '.' In these few yeors are the
ilestlniesof children Hxed in forty-nine cases out of fifty —
Hxed by parents ! i^et every father and mother solemnly
row : ' ])y (iod s help I'd fix my darling's destiny for good,
ay making home more attractive than the streets.'"

Mr. Henry IJergh, writing on the subject of
" Dangerous Education," makes the following
remarks on the rightful instruction of children
by their parents in the principles of humanity,
justice and mercy : —

" Sparzheim asserts that there is no part of
education more sliamefuUy neglected than the
cultivation of conscientiousutss. In that he
judged rightly. Ciiildren of the tenderest age,
even before they can articulate, may be taught,
through the simple agency of pictures, to ad-
mire and appreciate living creatures. A skii-
fu' mother should instruct her children in the
uses of the domestic animals as playmates, ser-
vants and friends. Slie should impress upon
their minds the wickedness of deforming or
iendering unhappy wliat (Jod has made beauti-
ful and happy. She should secure their atten-
tion by anecdotes of the horse, the dromedary,
the porpoise, the lion, and the elephant. Talk
to them of the feathered tribes which sport
their glittering plumage in the noon-day sun,
and chant their homage of their Creator with
their sweet, untutored melody. Speak of the
eagle in its dizzy flight toward the orb of day ;
the little humming bird, ensconced within the
perfumed petals of the llower ; point to the
pigeon's neck with its changing hues, the robin
red-bryast, and the gorgeous plumage of the
peacock, exceeding in elegance the queenly robe
and chiding the rivalry of art. Tell them of
the habits of animals, their long voyages, their
social and their solitary instincts, their clothing
,ind their architectural skill, their care and
lourage in the defence of their young, and the
arts by which they deceive and elude their
enemies.

"Nor should she confine herself to those
deemed beautiful, but to those also which to
the eye of prejudice are ugly, ami even hurtful.
I'oint to the spider, building with consummate
skill its twig-suspended residence, braced au<l
protected everywhere with human ingenuity

and cunning. Instead of sttrting back af-
frighted at the sight of the frog, the worm, the
chrysalis, and the caterpillar, teach them to
contemplate the wonders of their forms and
color, persuade them to take them in their
hands, and, when possible, assist their vision
with the microscope.

" Let her teach them the difTcrcnce between
might and right, and that a creature's helpless-
ness shouM be its mightiest defence against
injury. Instruct them that no being requires
such unbounded freedom as the bird, and that
to imprison it in a cage is a crime Their study
of geography may be facilitated by recounting
to them the localities of t-uimals on earth —
their native homes. The reindeer tells of the
sledge and the hut of the Laplander, amidst
eternal snow ; the elephant conducts them to
the wilds of Caflfraria and the forests of Ceylon;
ths fowls which inhabit the rocks upon the sea-
shore, the ostrich of the desert. Point to the
awakened interest, by all the powers of ail'cc-
tionate eloquence, the degrading criminality of
dog and cock-fights, and all contests between
animals, and the wanton killing of any being
from motives of sport or relief from ennui. Try
to describe the misery of a little famdy of birds
or animals, whose parent while in([uu9tof their
daily food falls before the senseless aim of the
sportsman. "

Mrs. SchafFter, of New Orleans, says : —
" Train tjie children, train their hands, train
their heads, and, above all, train their hearts,
and our future will be one of good men and
women. "

This publication trill fUmish parents and
others ■witii a most comprehenBlve text-book for
home education in humanity and benevolence.

A Mother's Lesson of Kindness to a Horse.

Here is a beautiful ana practical example of
the thoughtfulness of a lady who felt it to be
not only desirable to give the time, but also a
delightful duty to instruct her children in acts
of kindness to a horse. See how she pets it her-
self, and gives it what it so much likes, salt
or sugar, out of her own hand. Hy this act she
teaches not only gentleness and kindness, but

100

THK TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETV.

fuurlessnosfl and confidcnco. These are tliiiigH
wliicli, in the caao of children, uro inoHt nuoua-
nary to be taught. Hesidoa, thoy appeal at ouce
to the h^nrtH and courage of tlie little spuctu-
torg. They see their own <lcar mother, kind,
'earless, and loving to the horao, thus malting
that aniiiiul, in a manner and to their imagina-
tion, one of their own little family circle. Would
that such examples of cotisiderutc and practical
thoughtfulness were more commou !

"I Have no Time for My Children."

" Hold (liliKViit conv«rHu with thy vhlldren I Have tliuiii

MoriiiiiKaiid ovviiitiK about thcc; lovo thou them

And win their lovo in tnoHU rare, li>.auteou9 ycara:

Kor only while the short-lived droani o( elilldhood

Lasts are they thlno— no longer!"

—Leopold Schefer.

A writer thus remonstrates with parents who

izer to its posscauor. Do not forget, too, that
the childish mind, in process of dovelopmont,
ahsolutoly needs the cheerful and happy influ
ences which are produced ity amusements, us sure
as the plant needs sun and light for its proper
growth. And who can be better persons t<>
alford recreation than both parents. The
father's entrance after a ilay's labor should Ihj
a cause fo' rejoicing, and the signal for a mei .y
game, which would benetit him as much U8 the
little ones."

"I'm Hurried, Child."

" Oh mother, look ! I've found a butterfly
Hanging upon a leaf. Do tell me why
There was no butter. Oh, do see its wings !
I never, never saw such pretty things —
All streaked and striped with blue, and brown,

and gold —
Where is its house when all the days are cold? "

A motuer's lesson of kindness to a iiokse.

■m

excuse their constant neglect of an imperative
duty by saying that they "have no time" to
devote to their children : —

" ' I have no time to devote to my children,'
says the business man with a sigh ; for he really
feels the privation of their society keenly. But
the excuse is an insufficient one ; he should
make time — let other things go, for no duty is
more important than that he owes his offspring.
Parents should never fail to give the child such
sympathy in its little matters of life as will
produce in its confiding mind that trust and
faith which is a necessary clement in paternal
influence. Filial affection is a great safeguard
against evil influences, as well as a great civil-

— " Yes, yes," she said, in accents mild,
"I'm hurried, child."

" Last night my dolly quite forgot her prayers;

And when she thought you'd gone down stairs.

Then dolly was afraid, and so I said :

Just never mind, but say 'em in ttie bed.

Because I think that God is just as near.

When dolls are 'fraid, do you s'pose lie can

hear?"— ^. .^__;.._

"I'm hurried, child."

" Oh, come and see the flowers in the sky — _1: .
The sun has left, and won't you, by-and-by, ,

COUNSELS TO PARENTS ON HUMANE EDUCATION.

191

Dour motlier, take nio in your ttniis, aiul ti'll
Ml! all about the putmy in tli<! \,oll 1
Tlicii tell nio of tlio babius in tlio wood,
And then, j)erlia|)s, about Hod Hiding Hood?"
— " Too much to do ! llusli, huah I jou drive
nio wild !

I'm hurried, child."

Tho littlo ono grow very (juict now,
And grieved iiud jiuz/lod wiis tho childish brow;
And tliun sho (pioried : " Mother, do you know
Tlie reuHon 'cuiiae you inuBt bo hurried so?
1 guess tlio hours aro littler than ^
So I will take my pennieij an<l will buy
A big clock ! oh, as big as it can bo 1
For you and nio. "
•'•••••♦

Tho mother now has lei&uro infinite ;
Sho sits with folded hands, and face as white
As winter. In her heart is winter's chill.
Sho sits at leisure (jui>stioning liod's will.
"My child has ceased to breathe, and all is

night !
Is Ileavei) so dark that Thou dost grudge nio

light?
O life ! O God ! I must discover why
Tho time drags by."

mother sweet, if cares must ever fall,
I'ray, do not make them stones to build a wall
Uetween thee ond thy own; and miss the riglit
To blessedness, so swift to take its llight !
While answering baby questionings you are
!)Ut entertaining angels unaware ;
The richest gifts are gathered by the way,
For darkest day.

Grave Responsibility of Parents.

This is a fact of startling importance to fathers
and muthor.s, and sliows a fearful responsibility.
Certainly a parent should secure and exercise
absolute control over his child until sixteen. It
cannot be a very dilHcult matter to do tliis, ex-
cept in very rare cases ; and if that control is
not wisely and cfliciciitly exercised— and it must
be the parent's fault— it is owing to parental
lu'gloct or remissness Hence the real resources
of twenty-eight jier cent, of the cruelty and
crime in England, tho United States and Canada
lies at the doov of the parents. It is a fearful re-
flection; we throw it before the minds of the
fathers and mothers of our land, and tliere leave
it to be thought of in wisdom and kindness.

Mr. Erastus Burnliam, Secretary of the Ohio
Humane So(;iety, in a paper read at the Roches-
ter meeting of the American Humane Society
(1887), said:—

"( iiildrcn should bo impresiu'il and educated
to know ami reali/.o that tho tics of home should
far exceed those of all other smiiety and its sur-
roundings. Children have a right to tho best
training that jiarents can i'i>ninian(l. Too fre
<|iioutly through loss of tliat intimate relation
that should over exist botwoou parent and chiM.
tho character of the latter is developed in a
wrong direction, owing to the want of any safe
guard against temptation. Children shou'd be
taught by their parents, both by precept and
example, tho principles which underlie an up
right and honoral)le life; of piiiity in thought
anil action, which will be through all time of
untold value."

What Do the Children Read ?

Tell me, oh doting parents.

Counting your household joys.
Rich in your sweet homo- treasures,

West in your girls and boys;
After the school is over,

Each little student freed.
After the fun and frolic.

What do the children read?

Dear littlo heads bent over,

Scanning the printed page ;
Lost in th'3 glowing picture.

Sowing the seeds for age.
What is the story, mother?

Wliat is the witching theme,
Set like a feast before them,

Bright as a golden dream ?

Deal Leniently with Little Children.

ye that are wise in your own conceit !
never despise the young; never turn from their
first sorrow, at the loss even of a doll or pegtop.
Every privation is a step in the ladder of life.
Deal gently with them; speak kindly to tliem.
A little sympathy may ensure a great return
when you are yourself a second time a child.
Comfort their little sorrows; cheer their little
hearts. Kind words are the seeds sown by the
wayside, tliat brings fortli fruit, "some sixty-
fold, some an hundred-fold." Boar in mind
ever tliat " the child is father to the man ;" and
when you would pass a sorrowing one coltUy by
— whether yo -. see it mourning over a dear
friend or a lost half-penny ; whether coupled to
crime by the iron hand of necessity, or dragged
into it by the depraved will of a bad mother, or
some other unlucky circumstances — remember
that still it is a child, a piece of nature's most
flexible wax, and credible to false prints.
Spurn it not because its clothes aro rags, or its
parents vagrants ; it is the mighty, and yet tlio

192

THK TORONTO HUMANE aO( IKTY.

innocent repruHcntntive, pcirhapa of goiicriitiona
yet unborn. Uivu it tho look of IciudiiouM that
cliildliowl nuvor inlHtiiliaa; apuali to it tliu word
of chuoi- that uvun old agu nuvor forgtttH. Uu it,
if not for tho Make of your common naturo, do

it, for tho take of One who Mid i " InMmuch
OH yo did it to the *oa8t of thcio, ye did it unto
Me." " SiilFcr ittle ohildren to como unto Me,
and forbid thorn not, fur of such ii tho kingdom
of heuvon. "—K«rmon< School Journal.

III. IMPORTANCE OF HUMANE EDUCATION BY TEACHERS.

ilf

The Schoolmaster as a Teacher of Humanity.

Mr. Hergli, rcfurring to the valuable aid
which a achoolmastcr may be in thia beneficent
came, say a: —

" The achoolmoster can greatly asaiat the

upon the ground, or tno autrering orphan, widow
and atranger. "

Aa an cnoouraging example Mr. Angell men-
tiona the gratifying fact that —

" A teauiior of a largo public tchool u; Kng-
laud haa, during many years, been carefulFy
touching tho uhildruu in hia auhoui kiuflneHa to
animala-to feed tho liirda, and pat the horaea,
and enjoy making all (iod'a harmlcaa crcatiueM
>i happy ; and ho now tolls ua that out of about
■even thousand children that have gone out

<ii- — i

THE SCHOOL-ROOM AND ITS HUMANIZING SURUOUNDINGS.

' Thousands of seeds by the autumn are scattered, yet fruit la engendered
Only by a few, for the most back to the element go ;
But if only one can blusgom, Ihat one is able to scatter
Even a bright living world, Blled with creations eternal."

—Schiller.

merciful purposes of parents
by mingling humanity with
rudimental instruction. The
infant kneeling at the incipient fountain of
knowledge, should have his tirst draught
llavored with the sweet ingredients of pity oud
compassion. He should bo taught that know-
ledge i3 worthless if undirected by the benevo-
lent '"irtues, that there is no being so insignifi-
cant as to be unworthy of his commiseration
and protection, be it the worm which crawls

from his school, not one has e.ver been charged
with a criminal offence in any court."

Mrs. Schafftor, of New Orleans, alao says: —
" Mr. Ulri„ Bettison, the superintendent of
the city schools, speaking of the condition of
the public schools of Cincinnati umler Mr.
Peaslce's ri'ijime, when Bands of Mercy were
everywhere, said you have here a convincing
argument in fav )f this method of heart cul-
ture. Think y . that a child cannot be influ-

KINDNKSS AND MERCY THK UKSULTS OF HUMANK TKAt'IIIKO.

193

encvtl ? ' Kauh drop uniHiunted in a Htorin of
rain liatli iU own niiiHioii.' It may \»> to siulc
into tlio uartli, or it iiiiiy bu to bwuII the ton, or
it may bo to (;Ii<lo into tiiu throat of a droopiug
lily to refri'HJi itH bisaiity. An ant, a Hpiilor, u
leaf, a arain of Hand can tuauli a philoiopliur,
uikI a vnild can educ ito a ntau. "

Another writer ini])roHBivuly add*:--

" Wlu-n I rutiicinbcr that nearly all the din-
tinguJHhed i nd inlliiential nioii and women of
the future, and no.<.rly all the poMHiblo criininalH
of the future, are now in thcHu schooU, and the
incalculable intluenco which teaohura can exert,
not only upon children, but also through tlieni
upon their parents, I am thorouuhly impresxeil
with the belief tliat in tliu \vliole range of
humane work there cun bo notiting more im-
portant than the duty of using every exertion
to reach and inlluei' .:e tlic teacherH anil pupils
of our public schools. "

Humane Literature in our Public Sciioois.

Mrs. Lilly Lord Tifft, Secretary of the linflTalo
liranch of the American Humane Society, in a
paper read at Kochostor (1887), said: —

" Wo all know that crujity is not oonfincd to
the uneducated clasnes. It is not alone nuui
wiioHe interests and amusumcnts are supposed
to be entirely cutside of books ami all the
wondciH and glories opened to the thinking
mind by art in all its forms ; it is i)ot tlicce
alone thiit are cri'el, that take delight in brutal
dog-lights, racing horses until they «lroj) dead,
indulging in every form of cruelty which nuiv
occur to tlioni, when angry with wife or ohiltl,
dog or horsti, whoever o*" whatover is in their
power. Men of ])i>!iition, of grer.t inlluen(!e,
highly educated men, often have tliJ mask torn
oil by the hand of justice, and deeds of cnielty
that shock a community give unmistakable
evidence that tiie 'Carelessness of childhood, the
unreiutoning abuse of youth, has become active
cr\ielty in tlie man or woman (with shame be it
written) wiu)se "ducation has been entirely of
the heail, and the higher education, that of the
heart, totally disregarded. A wise writer of
two score years ago, Horace Miinii, thought
ileeply on this subject. He says, 'However
loftily the intellect of man nuvy be gifted, how-
ever skilfidly it miiy have been trained, if it bo
not guided by a scnso of justice, a love of man-
kind and a devotion to duty, its possessor is
(iidy a more splendid, as ho is a more dangerous,
barbarian."

IV. KINDNESS AND MERCY THE RESULTS OF HUMANE

TEACHING.

Vi..n*j' 'i-^

Unconscious Influence of Surroundings.

Place a young girl uuaer the care of a kind-
hearted, graceful woman, and she, uncon-
sciously to herself, grows into a graceful lady.
I'lace a boy in the establishment of a thorough-
going, straight-forward business man, and the
boy becomes a self-reliant, practical business
man. Caildren are susceptible creatures, and
circumstances, and scenes, and actions always
impress. As you influenca them, not by arbi-
trary rules, nor by stern example alone, but in
many other ways they speuk through beautiful
forms, pretty picture-", etc., so they will grow.
Teach your childrer, the:i, to love the beautiful,
(live them a corner iu the garden for iloweis ;
encourage them to put it in the shape ol hang-
ing baskets ; allow them to have their favoiite
trees ; teach them to \ 'ander in the prettiest
woodlets ; show them where they can best view
the sunset ; rouse them in the morning, not
with the stern "time to work," but with the
enthusiastic "sec the beautiful suuise!" buy
tor them preity pictures, and encourage them
to decorate their rooms in his or her childish
way, give them an inch and they will go a mile.
Allow them the privilege and they will make
your home beiiutiful.

Influence of Humane Instruction.

It is impossilde to over-estimate the benefit
of judicious humane instruction. Its influence
is felt by all classes and ui ,i every circum-
stance of life. Our hearts, under its salutary
precepts, are kept warm and tender; we are all
better prepared to meet our share of life's trials
when wo have borne relief and comfort to those
weaker and more dependent than ourselves,
eve.i though it be but an insect in our pathway.
A man who is kind to the animals belonging to
him will be thoughtful of the feelings and wishes
of his family. A woman who, with patience
and tenderness, cares for the domestic creatures
around her home can but be loving to her little
ones ; for she must observe hov strong is the
mother-love in the humblest thing that lives;
and loving to her children, she will be more in-
clined to care for the poor, the friendless, the
motherless, who pass htr door. Last, but not
least, children who arc kind to animals will be
kind to ea(;h otlier. Tiiey will bo more loving
to their parents and more obedient to all who
have authority over them. When they observe
the kindness of animals to each other, that
" birds in their little nests agree," that indi-
viduals of the same brood or litter dwell lov-

191

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY,

tITTLE LILLIAN AND BONNIE GKACIt UNDER TUt 0MBRELLA.

" Coming home from school tog;etlier,
In the cold and rainy weather, — wire—
Lillian, with her nut-brown hair,
Uunnic Grauie, gweot and te.'.: '. "

KINDNESS AND MERCY THE RESULTS OF HUMANE TEACHING.

19;

ingly together, they will soon come to bo
aahained to quarrel aud contcnil with each
otl'cr. Humane children will be humane men
and woii'cn. The things we learn in early life
cling to us through all vicissitudes; wo :.iay
wander away, but the truths .ire in our hearts,
and they will come to the surface in our lives.
We very much doubt whether the hardened
criinina's who have startled the world by their
Climes received any humane instruction wliilc
tliey were young. Show us a boy who delights
in niahning insects, robbing birds' nests, and
drowning helpless, kittens; we will venture to
say he is a terror to his comr>ide8, and will grow
up a rulHan and a malefactor. Show us a girl
—we think they are seldom found —who in-
dulges in kindred tastes, and we predict, if she
does . "<t become wholly depraved, she will be
u careless and cruel mother, an unkind neigh-
bor, and so rule her domestic circle that her
liusband aud children will Qee anywhere to be
out of her presence. — Mrs. F. A. F. Wood-
I, kite.

Lillian and Gracie Under the Umbrella.

Coming home from school together.
In the cold and rairy weather,
Lillian, with her nut-brown hair,
Bonnie Gracie, sweet and fail !
Just behind them, I, while walking,
Listened to their childish talking ;
First of iessoiis learned that day,
Then of recess and their play ;
Then a little chat on dolls.
And then of " brother'a cricket ball ; "
Of this and that, as children will,
Whose little tongues are never i:*ill

" How it rains ; " cried Grace, at last,
As the drops fell thick and fast.
" We don't care, though, for you ceo
We're under shelter, you and me ! "
Then said Lillian, " Sissie, dear,
Tl ere's room for ona more under liere.
And do you think mamma would care,
H wo biioulu call that poor girl there.
And ask her— sliall I, or will you?
To come in under shelter too ?
She looks so sad ; and tiien I know
She's cold, because she shivers so."
A moment more ; and presently
The large umbrella sheltered three.

little kinci Samaritan !
Sweet, thoughtful little Lillian I
Remember, as you older grow,
That many a heart so filled with woo

May falter by the roadside drear,
Bowed low with many a s^iief and fear.
Then from the shidter of (jod's ciire
Stretch forth your hand and gladly share
The haven of your pitying love.
To save from augry clouds above,
Ope wide, dear child, sweet charity's door,
Where there is always room for more.

— Anon.

In the spirit of this kind thoughtfulness every
boy should treat every girl as he would like
every boy to treat his sister. Everyone .'lould
learn to be gentle towards others, and to give
protection to those weaker than themselves.
If every boy treated his girl friends as ho would
like other boys to treat his .sister there rtould
b; a better state of society when they are all
grown u^i.

Conscience, or the Voice of God.

I h^ve read a good story about a distinguished
clergyman of Massachusetts, known throughout
tiie nation aa a great and good man. It is
about one of the experiences of his childhood,
and I will tell it in his own words. He says :
"I saw one day a little spotted turtle oiinning
itself in the shallow water, and I lifted the
atick in my hand to kill it, for though I liad
never killed any creature, I had seen other boys
kill birds, sijuirrels, and the like, and I had a
disposition to follow their ;vicked example ;
but all at once something checired my little
arm, and a voice within me said, clear und loud,
'It is i«ron(;,' and so I held my uplifted stick
until the turtle vanished irom my bi^ht. Then
I went home and told my mother, and asked
her what it was that told me it was wrong.
She wiped a tear from her eye, and took me in
her arms, and said : ' Some call it conscience,
but I call it the voice of God in the human soul.
If you listen to it and obey it, then it will speak
clearer and clearer, and always guide you right.
But if you do not listen to it. or disobey it,
then it will fade out, Utile by little, and leave
you in the dark without a guide. You"* life,
my child, depends on needing that little voice.' "
— Parktr.

A Maiden and the Birds— A Contr.ist.

A bird sat singing a carol clear
On the bough of a building troe^

"Oh life is rare and the world is fair.
And sweet is my life to me ! "

And an angel near smiled down to luar
That song so gl id and free.

" :ii

196

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

But the bird sang again a sweeter strain
From tlie bough of a blossoming tree —

" Oh love is sweet and the world complete,
And dear is my love to mo !"

And tiie listening an;^ul smiled again
To hear his minstrelsy.

A maiden fair came singing clear,
As she passed 'neath the blossoming tree,

Oil the world is fair beyond compare,
And sweet is my life to me !

And the angel smiled at the joyous child,
For she was fair to see.

TUit the maiden came and sang again,
And she sanj so thrillingly,

Was the mate by my side whence to please tliy
pride.
Thy love hath torn from me ! "

— Aiinrx Maule Machcr,
KiNQSTOM, Ontario, Ma}-, 18:^.

Kindness to Sheep on a Cattle-Train.

This picture illustrates an incident ihat was
related »;ome years ago by Miss li. M. Alcott,
the well-known author. We give the story in
her own words, as published at the time : —

'.' Somewhere above Fitcliburg, as we stopped
for twenty minutes at a station, I amused my-
self by looking out of a window at a waterfall
which came tumbling over the rocks, and spread

KINDNESS TO SHEBP ON A CATTLE-TRAIN.

That the birds all stopped to catch the strain
That rang tiirough the greenwood tree —

" Oh love is sweet and my life complete.
And dear is my love to me 1 "

But the angel smiled not, though well he heard

Tiiat witching melody,
I''<>r the maiden was decked with the very bird

That had sung in the blossoming tree ;
To please her pride tlie bird had died, ' '

And I'uslicd was its minstrelsy !

And she never heard a low sad note

From a lone bi:d in a tree —
" Oh life was sweet witli love to greet;

And dear as thy love to thee

into a wide pool that flowed up to the railway.
(Jlose by stood a cattle-train ; and the mourn-
ful sounds that came from it touched my heart.

"Full in the hot sun stood the cars; and
every crevice of room between the bars across
the doorways was filled with pathetic noses,
sniffing eagerly at the sultry gusts that blew by,
with now and then a fresher breath from the
pool that lay dimpling before them. How thej
must have sulfered in sight of water, with tht'
cool dash of the fall tantalizing tiiem, and not a
drop to wet their poor parclied mouths.

" The cattle lowed dismally ard the sheep
tumbled one over the other, in their frantic
attemps to reach tiie blessed air, bleating so
plaintively the while, that I was tempted
to get out and see what 1 could do for them.
But the time was nearly up ; and, while I hesi-

,:ife:

KINDNESS AND MRRCY THE RESULTS OF HUMANE TEACHING.

197

tempted
for them,
hile I heiii-

tatoil, two little girls appeared, and did the
kind deed better tlian I UDuld have done it.

" I could not hear what they said ; but as
tiiey worked away so heartily, tlieir little tan-
ned faces grow lovely to me, in spite of their
olil liata and their bare feet, an<l their shabby
gowns. One pulled off her apron and spread
it on the grass, and emptying upon it the ber-
ries from her pail, ran to the pool and returned
with it dripping, to liold it up to tlie suffering
1 !ieep, who stretched their hot tongues grate-
fully to meet it. and lapped the precious water
with an c>vgerness that made little barefojt's
task a hard one.

" JJutto and fro she ran, never tired, though
tlie small pail was so soon empty ; uad her friend
meanwhile pulled great handfiils of clover anil
grass for the cows, and having no pail, filled
lier ' pickin.;-di8li' with water to throw on
tlie poor dusty noses appealing to her through
tli'j birs. I wish I couUl have told those tender-
hearted c'lildren how beautiful tiieir compas-
sion made that hot, noisy place, and what a
sweet picture I took away with me of these
two little sisters of charity." iJlessed are such
merciful ones, for they sliall obtaiti murcy.

Our Dumb Brothers.

.'^oe a countless multitude about us,
Claiming sympathy— our humble kin;

.Sadly have they learned to fear and doubt us,
Driven f-om our side by human sin ;

Yet, though dumb, their hearts to ours arc
speaking,

Help and kindness from us ever seekinjr,
Kindness hard to win I

Inarticulate voices, groins of anguish,

I'atient sighs, 'neath burdens hard to bear;

Frotr. lone places where dumb victims languish,
riaintive moans are floating on the air'

Soft eyes, seeking ours with wistful pleading ;

Can we turn away with hearts unheeding
That unuttered prayer ?

Innocent of wrong, our own transgression
I/iys on Chem a heavy load of pain,

Sharing all the misery and oppression
.Man has wrought beneath his iron reign.

'I'ouch all hearts, oh. Thou Divine Compa-'sion,

'I'iil they burn with generous love and passion
To remove the stain !

They and we are in our Father's keeping,

W hose compassion clasps both groat and small;
Not one wrong eludes that eye undeeping.

Not one humb'cst life unseen shall fall.
None can serve Him with a heart unheeding
His dumb creatures' inarticulate pleading,

I'''or He . . yeth all !

— Agnes Mavle Machar.

KmcSTOJt, Ont\rio, October, 1887.

Corliss, the Famous Engine Builder, and
the Robin's Nest.

Mr. Corliss, the famous engine builder of
Providence, not very long before liis vleath, had
occasion to build an addition to hi.s manufac-
tory—a big L for additional niacliinory. To
prepare the foundation for tliis L it was nccci-
sary to remove a ledge of rock by blasting. The
men to do the work on the addition had been
employed and put on the pay-roll, the materials
had been pnrciiased an'!, brought to the build-
ing, and tlie work of blasting liad begun. The
next "orning Mr. Corliss passed by the place
wiiere work was proceeding, when the foreman
in charge, knowing his interest in pretty tilings,
called him.

"See here, Mr. Corliss," said lie; " hero's a
bird's nest that we've found and that's got to
go."

He showed the manufacturer a robin sitting
upon a nest that had been built, fast and snug,
in a crevice of the rook, among some bushes
that grew there. The bird Hew off her nest as
tb? men came near, and showed ?.ve Lluo eggs
that looked as if they had just bee i laid.

"Car. we move that nest somewhere else?"
asked Mr. Corliss.

"I'm afraid not, sir. We'd tear it to pieces
getting it out, and it isn't at all likely that you
could get the bird to go on sitting again any-
wliere else. We've got to go on, so we may as
well rip it out and tiirow the eggs awaj "

"No,' said Mr. Corli.ss, "we won't disturb
her. Let her bring out her brood right there."
" Hut we'll have to stop the work on the
building."

"Let it stop, then."

And so orders weie given that operations on
the addition should be susjjonded. They were
suspcnd<id; and the hands stoid still, drawing
their pay for doing nothing, or next to notliing,
while the robin sat on hor nest with iier air of
great consequence and zealous attention to busi-
ness, and had her food brought by iier mate,
and at last i.titched her brood. And then there
were three weeks more to go by, at least, before
the young ones could fly. Mr. Corliss visited
the nest freijueutly, not with any \ineasinesa or
impatience to have the robin and the young
ones out of t!ic way, but with a genuine interest
in their growtli. Tlie old birds had all the time
they w^antei'i ; and when at last they had sternly
helped the clumsy, reluctant youngsters over
the edge of the nest, and they showed them-
selves able to get about on their own hook,
orders were given to resume the building opera-

198

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

-^1-

tions; and the dull boom of the gunpowder tear-
ing the rocks apart was hoard wiiere thu birds
had peeped. — liosloii Tranacript.

Ben Hazzard's Guests.

Ben Ha'zzard'a hut was smoky and cold,
Ben Hazzard, half blind, was black and old.
And he cobbled shoes for his scanty gold.
Sometimes he sighed for a larger atore
Wherewith to bless the wandering poor ;
For he was not wise in worldly lore ;
The poor were Christ's, he knew no more.
One night a cry from the window came—
Ben Hazzard was sleepy and tired and liime —
" Ben Hazzard, open," it seemed to say,
"Give slielter and food, I humbly pray."
Bon Hazzard lifted his woolly head
To listen. " 'Tis awful cold," he said,
And his old bones shook in his ragged bed,
" But the wanderer must be cornforted."
" Come in, in the name of the Lord," he cried.
And he opened the door and held it wide.
A milk-white kitten was all he spied.
Ben Hazzard, amazed, stared up and down ;
The stout house-doors were carefully shut,
Safe bolted were all but old Ben's hut.
' ' I thought that somebody called, " he said,
" Some dream or other got into my head !
Come then, poor puss, and share my bed."
Then out from the storm, the wind, and \;he

sleet.
Puss joyfully lay at old Ben's feet.
Truly it was a terrible storm,
Ben feared he should never more be warm.
But just as he began to be dozy.
And puss was purring soft and cozy,
A voice called faintly before his door,
"Ben Hazzard, Ben Hazzard, help, I implore!
Give drink, and a crust from out your store."
Out from his bed he stumbled again ;
" Come in, in the name of the Lord," he said ;
" With such as I have, thou shalt be fed."
Only a little black dog he saw.
Whining and shaking a broken paw.
" Well, well," he cried, " I must have dreamed;
But ve.ily like a voice it seemed.
Poor creature," he added, with husky tone,
" Thou shalt have the whole of my marrow-
bone."
He went to the cupboard and took from the

shelf
The bone he had saved for his very self.
Then, aiier binding the broken paw.
Half dead with cold went back to his straw.
Under the ancient blue bedquilt he crept.
His conscience was white and again he slept. "'

But again a voice called, both loud and clear,
" Ben Hazzard, for Christ's sweet sake come

here ! "
Once more he stood at the open dojr,
And look abroad, as he look before.
This time full sure 'twi.s a voice he heard :
But all that ho saw wf ^ a storm-tossed bird.
"Come in, in the name of the Lord," he said,
Tenderly raising the drooping head.
And tearing his tattered robe apart.
Laid the cold bird on his own warm heart.

The sunrise flashed on the snowy thatch,
As an angel lifted the wooden latch.
Ben awoke in a flood of golden light.
And knew the voice that called all night,
" Thrice happy is he that blcsseth the poor.
The humblest creature that sought thy door
For Christ's sweet sake thou hast comforted. "
"Nay, 'twas not much," Ben humbly said,
With a rueful shake of his old graj head.
" Who giveth all of his scanty store
In Christ's dear name, can do no more.
Behold the Master who waiteth for thee,
Saith: 'Giving to them thou hast given to

Me.'"
Then, with heaven's light on his face, "Amen,
I come in the name of the Lord," said Ben.
" Frozen to death," the watchman said,
When at last he found him in his bed.
With a smile on his face so strange and bright.
He wondered what old Ben saw that night.
— Anna P. Marshall, in the Gongj'egalionaliJit.

Reward for Loving Deeds.

Feed the hungry and the weak.
Words of cheer and comfort speak,
Be the angel of the poor.
Teach them bravely to endure ;
Show them this, the Father's will,
Confident of kindness still.

Gratitude may be your lot,
Then be thankful; but if not,
Are you better than your Lord,
Who endured the cross and sword
From those very hands whose skill
Waited ever on His will ?

Noble is a life of c|,re ^.•-'. _^,-., , w.^„_

If a holy zeal be there ;
All your little deeds of love ■■ i ,

• " - Heavenward helps at last may prove.
If you seek your Father's will.
Trusting in His kindness still.

— Anon.

HEROINES OF KINDNESS AND MERCY.

1 and clear,
sake come

oor,

heard :
Bsed bird.
I," he said,

II heart.

latch,

night,
the poor,
thy door
omforted."
ily said,
head,
e

sre.
thee,
; given to

!e, "Amen,

lid Ben.

said,

ed,

ind bright,

it night.

•egationalm.

ds.

speak,

•e;
! will,

V. HEROINES OF KINDNESS AND MERCY.

rd,
word
e skill

ly prove,

11,
11.
— Anon.

Florence Nightingale and Her Noble Work.

Florence Nightingale was horn in Florence,
of English r^arents, in 1820. Her whole life has
been marked by the purest philanthroi>y, a'l'l
was chiefly spout in the study and practice
of hospital managrmcnt and nursing. At the
time of the Crimean War, in 18.54, Miss Night-
ingale undertook the direction of a band of lady
superintendents and nurses who were sent out
from England to the English military hospitals
in the Crime i. By her skilful organization, un-
ti -ing zeal and personal devotion she saved the
lives of numbers of the sick soldiers, and alle-
viated the sufferings of alb The American poet,
Longfellow, has thus gracefully done justice to
the noble devotion of one whom all delight to
honor : —

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought.

Our hearts, in glad surprise.

To higher levels rise.

The tidal wave of deeper souls
Into our inmost being rolls,

And lifts us unawares

Out of all meaner cares.

Honor to those whose words or deeds
Thus help us in our daily needs.

And by their overflow

liaise us from what is low !

Thus thought I, as by night I read

Of the great army of the dead,
Tlie trenches cold and damp.
The starved and frozen camp, —

The wounded from the battle-plain,
In dreary hospitals of pain.

The cheerless corridors.

The cold and stonj' floors.

Lo I in that house of misery

A lady with a lamp I see

Pass through the glimmering gloom.
And ilit from room to room.

And slow, as in a dream of bliss.
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
-•• Her shadow, as it falls

Upon the darkening walls.

As if a door in heaven should be ' :~
Opened and then closed suddenly.
The vision came and went.
The light shone and was spent.

On England's annals, through the long
Hereafter of her speech and song.

That light its rays shall cast

From portals of the past.

A lady with a lamp shall stand
In the great history of the land,

A noble type of good.

Heroic womanhood.

"Our Margaret."

The Editor of this publication while in New
Orleans in 1885, was greatly interested in tlic
history of the monument described below,
which he saw. Wiio was her teacher and
p 'ompter in her noble work we can only sur-
mise. It was, doubtless, the Master Himself.

" In the eity of New Orleans there are many
monuments erected • to the famous statesmen
anil soldiers of the South. But there is one
which has a more pathetic and deeper signifi-
cance than any of these. It stands on Prytania
Street, in the midst of beds of flowers and sur-
rounded bv dwellings and groves of the mag-
nolia, the orange and the palmetto. It is the
figiire of a stout woman who is seated, holding
a little child, on which she looks down, her
homely face illumined with a noble benignity
and tender love.

"That is 'Our Margaret,' the stranger is
told, and the inscription says, when he asks
what it means.

"All New Orleans knows ' Our Margaret.'

"She was a poor woman, who earned her
living by making bread, which she sold from a
little shop; a thrifty, energetic, businesswoman,
whose heart was full of love for children. Be-
fore tlie counter was always to be found some
ragged urchin, who would be sent away with full
hands and a haj)py face.

" As Margaret prospered, and her bake-shop
enlarged into a cracker factory, she had her
lovers, like other women. But she turned a
deaf ear to them all. The only man she wouhl
have married was dead, and her heart was full
of love only for children ; for the orphans and
poor little outcasts, who were more wretched
than orphans.

" All her money, all her thoughts and care,
as years passed, went to them.

"She founded, out of her scanty savings, a
Home for them which, as she grew richer, she
enlarged and endowed with all she had.

" So wise, so tender and benignant was she in
her care of them, that this poor, illiterate
woman, who was without friends, and upon
who breast no child of her own had ever lain,
became ' Our Margaret ' to the people of New
Orleans, and a mother to all the poor babies of
the great city.

" When she died, other charitable women
erected this monument, so that the homely figure
should remain among them, a type of the truest
mother-love. " — New Orleans Picayune.

"^^

200

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

How One Benevolent Woman Incited
Others to Deeds of Kindness.

Some years ngo, in Kngland, liorsus were eon-
timially slipping in winter on the ioy pavement
of a Bteep hill, up which loaded Wiiggons and
carta were constantly moving. Yet no one
Ruemod to think of any butter remedy th:in
to beat and i vtrso tiio animals as they tugged
and pulled and slipped on the hard earth,
except a poor old woman, who lived at the
foot of the hill. It hurt her so, to sec the poor
horses slip and fall on the slippery ])avement,
thit every morning, old and feeble as she was,
she climbed the hill and emptied her ash-pan,
and such ashes as she could collect from her
neighbors, on the smoothest spots.

At first the drivers paid very little attention
to what she did, but after a little they began
to appreciate her kindness ; to be ashamed of
their own cruelty, and to listen to her requests,
tluit they would be more gentle with their
beasts.

The town officials heard of the old lady's
work and soon set to work levelling the hill
and re laying the pavement. Prominent men
came to know what the old woman had done,
and it suggested to them an or,'anization for
doing such work as the old lady had inau-
gurated. All this made the drivers so grate-
ful that they went among their employers and
others with a subscription paper, and vaised a
fund which bought the old lady a comfortable
annuity for life. So one poor old woman and
her ash-pan not only kept the poor overloadeil
horses from falling, and stopped the blows and
cur?es of their drivers, but made every animal
in the city more comfortable, improved and

beautified the city itself, and excited an epoch
of good feeling and kindness, the end of which
no one can toll. —llfr. F. M. Todd, ManaasnK,
I'irijinia. ■'

Mrs. Vincent, of Boston.

Mrs. Vincent, an Englishwoman of Boston,
Massachusetts, who for fifty-three years was
connected with a theatre in that city, left to
the Massachusetts Huiiiane .*^ociety, at her de-
cease in September, 18S7, a legacy of §1,000, to
be used in the protection of dumb animals from
cruelty. Her character is thus sketched by Dr.
Courtney, the present Bishop of Nova Scotia: —

"There has recently passed away suddenly
from our midst one engaged in a profession
which, according to common opinion, is beset
by many temptations, 'i'ho one of whom I
speak so conducted herself that she not only
disarmed hostility and prejudice, but gained
the regard and admiration of the general public
and the respect and reverence —yes, I say rever-
ence—of those whose privilege it was to know
her with some degree of intimacy. Such a char-
acter it is an honor for any community to have
possessed; and Boston was the richer that Mrs.
Vincent lived, and is the poorer now that she is
gone.

"The native good sense, the warmth and
geniality of her disposition, were all mellowed
and rendered more attractive by her useful life.
In the doctrines of the Church she found strength
in wiiich to overcome the temptations of sin,
and for the development of a character which
was so beautiful in the eyes of those permitted
to behold it. One of the last acts of her life
was an endeavor to make Easter more joyful
than it would otherwise have been. If only for
the sad, the sorrowful, the tried, tempted and
poor whom she comforted, helped, guided, coun-
selled and clothed, may her example be well
followed, not only by those in her profession,
but by those outside its limits."

VI. THE FORMATION OF CHILDREN'S BANDS OF MERCY.

" Be kind to dumb creatures, be gentle, be true,
Kor food and protection they look up to you ;
For .iffection and help to your bounty tliey turn.
Oh, do not their trusting hearts wantonly spurn ! "

Children's Humane Organizations.

Mr. Leonard H. Eaton, of Pittsburg, Pennsyl-
vania, Vice-President of the American Humane
.Society, in a paper read at the Rochester Meet-
ing (1887), abked:—

" How then can we utilize the services of early
and later childhood in the humane reformation
of to-day ? Organization is needed to work
successfully. Children are fond of having
something to do. They are good workers when
they become interested in any object. Bands

of Mercy should be organized in all schools com-
poseil of youthful pupils. The public school,
composed as it is of all classes, seems to promise
tlie i)ost results. A separate Band may be
organised in each room, the teacher being made
president It should have a name. The meet
ings should be held monthly, and the exercises
should consist of humane recitations, song.s, and
whatever the leader can think of that will both
interest and instruct the children. Every mem-
ber should have an opportunity to narrate any
act of mercy or kindness performed by them-
selves, or learned from other sources. The

'SX.-

THE FORMATION OF CHILDRKN'S HANDS OP MERCY.

201

pledge, ' I will try to be kind to all harmless
living creatures, and try to protect tiiem from
cruel usage,' should be rc|)eate(l at every meet-
ing. Surrounded by suoli intluencea, children
will grow up to manhi)U(l and wonivnliood with
kind feolingM, brave hearts and noble purjK)Sos.
The success of a Band of Mercy will depend
largely on having an intelligent and enthusiastic
leader."

"Every first thing continues forever with a
child; the first color, the first music, the first
dow ir, paint the foreground of his life. The
first inner or outer object of love, injustice or
such like, throws a shadow iiiimeasurably far
along his after-years." — Richler,

Formation of Bands of Mercy.

"Kind hearts .are the Hardens,
' Kind thou^'lits are tlio (rnita ;

Kind woril^ lue tlio blossoms,
Kind deeds are tli.i fruits."

Next to the personal instruction of children
in the family, or in the tscliool, in the duty of
kindness to all dumb creatures, the formation
of " Bands of Mercy "' have been the most
effective means of influencing them to deeds of
kindness and mercy. They were first formed in
Boston in 1882. It is estimated that there are
now about 5,000 in operation in city, town,
village and counties everywhere. These organ-
izations are very properly designated " Bands
of Mercy." Their organization is simple, and
tho only promise which members are asked to
make is embodied in the following

I BAND OF MERCY PLEDGE: |

I I

I / tvill try to be kind to all living %
I creatures, and will try to protect them, \
I as far as I can, from cruel usage. I

This pledge can be signed, as shown in the
engraving on the following page.

" 01 let each boy and girl
•Sweet Mercy's flag unfurl,

And love its cause.
Dare to be kind and true, ■ ■ " •

Give each dumb thing its duo.
Win them in love to you
By God's own laws.

"Open thy lips and spe.j-k.
Protect the dumb and weak,

Their cause maintain.
Why sliould we then abuse?
14

Why thuse kind friends misuse T
O ! let "i never choose
To cause them pain."

— Sidney Iferbert.

" Fdujation is the leading of human souls to
wiial is best, and making what is best out of
them. " — RiMkln,

Object of Bands of Mercy.

The object of these Bands of Mercy is to en-
courage in every possible way brave, generous,
noble, and merciful deeds ; to protect not only
the dependent races, but also every suffering hu-
man being that needs and deserves protection.

For this purpose let the promoters aim to use
thu best literature of the world — songs, poems,
pictures, and stories, which will promote these
objects; and by various other means, to reach
all outside whom they can influence.

Mrs. Schaftter, of New Orleans, who read a
paper on this subject at the liochester meeting
in October, 1887, said : —

"The aim and object of the Bands of Mercy
is twofold: To oppose cruelty, under whatever
form it may be and wha'ever be its object; the
fight then is against cruelty to man or beast, be
it the result of intemperance, anijer, thought-
lessness, or the lack of power to sympathize;
and to this end a Band of Mercy would train
the young in the ways of mercy. . . . This
movement does not seek to till the mind of the
young with foolish Sfntimentalities
Far from it ; a Band of Mercy would so teach
the children that they may become judicious
philanthropists, and the pledges merely demand
justice and kindness to the fellow-creature,
whether it be an erring man, a sinning woman,
a suffering child, a dumb animal, or any living
creature. . . .

WHKN SIIODLD THIS WORK BEOIN ?

"Starting with the fact that all such reforms
must begin with the children, because their
hearts arc tender, because they are impression-
able, and because they indirectly educate their
parents, a Band of Mercy might be "justly
termed a preparatory class for a htimane society.
In our public schools to- day are the men and
women of our future-; perhaps side by aide may
sit the future criminal and the judge, and just
so surely as the insects under the seas are build-
ing the coral reefs, are the children of the pre-
sent building the future of our land, its moral
ar.(\ political government. Oh, the importance
then of sowing the seeds of mercy and justice,
of touching the hearts while tender; for the
lessons learned in early youth are the last to
be forgotten ; like the snatch of the song, they
will come to mind, and often they govern our
actions with an indefinable influence.

now TO ORGANIZE A BAND OP MEROY.

" ' The beginning is half of the whole,' as the
old Greeks said. Touch a child's hecrt, make

202

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

it to vibrate with tlio suiferings of anoihcr,
make it to Imve ayinpathy, sympathy in its
truest sense; alike siilfering for iiiiy olijcct of
distress, anil the child willingly goes to the
reHciie. Aluke the young to have pity for the
beasts that sutler and are ihunli, teach them of
the uses that animals are to man, how blank
anil hard our lives would be without their ser-
vice; tell them how much we owe our friends
in furs and feathers, and then we reach a higher

giving them work to do, and by making them
feel that tlioy are doing souiethirg for the cause
of humanity. Make them to feel a nrido in
their cause, and thei: — never fear — children so
taught will work, and work hard, and before
long their parents will be working with them,
for mercy's sweet sake."

Rev. Mr. Timmins writes that in the five
hundred Bands of Mercy in England there are

SIONINO THE ROLL OF A BAND OF MKUCY

work, the moral obligation of man as a superior
animal to protect the weak and defenceless, and
so we proceed until that highest sphere is
reached — man's duty to man— but the task
grows lighter, the corner-stone has been laid,
for the child that has learned to love and pro-
tect the dumb animals will never be cruel to a
fellow human being. ... To kindle their
attention is one thing, to keep it alive is an-
other, and this may bo accomplished by holding
meetings, distributing humane literature, by

now orer 107,000 members enrolled. He has
recently formed thirty in the schools in the
vicinity of London. For an account of the
Dicky Bird Society in England, see page 42 of
this publication.

Tbe Humane Society eaxaestly entreats tbose
who read the foregoing to aid In the foundation
of these admirable Bands of Mercy everywhere.

!iking them
or tho cauHe
a nrido iu
children so
and before
with them,

PABT V.

in the five
id there are

MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS TO BE ACCOMPLISHED.

I. WORK BEFORE THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

lied. He has
chools in the
:count of the
see page 42 of

entreats those
the foundation
r everywhere.

The Editor of tlii.s puhliuation has now nearly
readied the end of liis a;;reealilo labors. As he
proc;ee<led tho magnitude of tlie legitimate work
which tho .Society sliould undertake seemed to
mcrease at every atop, and to grow upon him to
an unusual extent.

To accomplish less than what is proposed in
tlie list which will bo found on page '20i, under
the heading of " Miscellaneous Things to be
Done," would not fulfil tho desiraljle mission of
the Toronto Humane Society. To do so ellcct-
ually, however, will requipe liberal contribu-
tions, an active organization, and the sup[iort
of an enliglite!ied antl humane public sentiment.

These are all witliin the bounds of a hopeful
possibility, ami, therefore, no cause for fear of
the result, or for discourageinent, need be felt.

In this connection the following extract will
show what has already been accomplished in
the way of clearing the ground for the prosecu-
tion of the humbler yet no less liighly practical,
and e<|ually benevolent, work sketched out for
this and kindred Societies to accomplish.

Growth of a Humane Christian Sentiment in

England— Its Great Achievements, and

Encouragements therefrom.

In a sermon preached in Westminster Abbey
on the '20th May, 1888, Archdeacon Farrar elo-
quently summed up tho achievements and re-
sults of the efforts put forth by earnest Chris-
tian phila ithropists of Kngland to put a stop to
tho heartless cruelty, in its various forms, which
charactori/,cd the last century. It furnishes to
the members of tho Toronto Humane Society a
noble incentive to pro.sccute with increasing
zeal and vigor their less prominent, though
equally useful, work, remembering that tiioy
must not be weary in well-doing, for in due
time they, too, shall reap if they faint not.

Pointing, as ho did, to the navo and the tran-
septs of the Abbey, filled with memorials of the

renowned and lieroio dea<l, tho Archdeacon pro-
ceeded : —

"See there how, in tho niglit of Christian
morality, (Chatham still seems to stamp with
the stigma of indelible abhorrence tiiosa who
used savage nieana to accomplish righteous
ends. Look there, and in the nave, at tliu
monuments of those men who saved England
from tho guilt of using tho arm of freedom to
rivet tlie tetters of tho slave.

"Even when our Queen came to the throne
there was much for men to do who were in-
spired by tho Spirit of ( Jod. Even tlien the fac-
tory childron wore still slowly murdered by the
reckless and heartless greed of gain; even then
little childron of eight or nine wore sent down
the black shafts of mines to work as galley
slaves for the rest of their days on starvation
pittance, to sit there chaincil and filthy ami
naked, in damp and darkness all the day long,
pushing tho heavy trucks with their heads,
until even women and littlo boys grew bald ;
harnessed to these trucks in tho low, Idack gal-
lories until they grew double, and at last, too
often, tlio burst of tho deadly fire damp liber-
ated them from the world where they had been
so grossly wronged, to plead, trumpet tongucd,
at the awful bar of (joil against the rich, who,
for gain, had made them toil like negroes, and
against the Christian nation which had looked
oil in ca'ious aciiuiescence at ' the deep damna-
tion of their taking off. '

"Even in those not distant days the poor
littlo chimney boys, begrimed until they died of
hideous disoa.scs, were sent up the black, crooked
ciiimneys, kicked, beaten, sufibcated with soot
and smoke, fires lit underneath tlioin to force
them up or down. •

" Even thou prisons were still infamous, mo-
nopolies and tyrannies still supreme, debtors
still treated with cruel harshness, cliildien still
uneducated, the penal law still brutally Dra-
conian.

"All these wrongs liavo been swept away bj'
tho might of tho Spirit of Goil. ' Whore the
Spirit of tho Lord is, there is liberty.' They
have been swept away because, .... .stung to
rage by pity, eloquent men have roused witii
feeling voice the unnumbered trilics that toil
and groan and bleed, hungry and l>lind. They
have been swept away, because wherever the
Spirit of the Lord haa come down into tho
hearts of true men it is as a flame to burn up

20t

Till': TOKON'IO HUMANFO SOCIKTY.

tho i{uilty wron'^M of . . . ^Tomly and oiilloiiH
hypoLTiaiua. . . , Wlioro tho Spirit of the I/jivl
{h thoru ia roality, thuro ia Hiiiuurity, thero is
entliiisiiiMin ; aiiil with thimo own thu n iltry ox-
goa<i of .Sliainj{ur can turn tu (light tliu urniiua
of tliu aliuiia."

Summary Statement of Desirable Objects.

Thu main objects whicli thuToronto lluniaiiu
Society closiro to promote, ami wiiicli it hopes
to sou fully acconipliBhcd have been amply ilia-
cuBscd and illustrated in the preceding pa},'cH.
It only remains to Humniari/.o thcni here, and
then refer to a few additional and nuHcellanooiig
things to ho done. Thu subjects discussed and
illustrated have been :--

1. Various Uiiuls of cruelty practised to-
wards horses, dogs, and other unimals.

'2. The ways in which this cruelty can bo
prevented, or its evils largely mitigated.

3. Tho necessity of feeding, waterin;.', and
protecting animals in transit on stock trains.

4. Tho general and wanton destruction of in-
sectivorous birds.

5. The cruelty, as well as the loss to farmers
and gardonf rs, caused by such destruction.

G. Tho duty, as illuBtrated by examples in
tills piiblicfttiou, of kindness to uU dumb crea-
tures.

7. Tho nauofsity of oarlnff for tho waifa and
atraya of our largo cities.

8. Tho humane education of children ami the
establishment of bands of mercy amongst them.

Miscellaneous Thing;s to be Done.

Theso are tho foUowiui,' : —

1. Tho protection of dofoncolcas ohildrcn
from cruelty and neglect.

2. The establishment of a temporary refuge
for noglec^ted children

.3. Tho eatablishutont of an industrial school
for girls.

'I Tho circulation of hunuvno literature in
tlio home and in schools.

T). Tho better care of horses.

ft. Thu erection of drinking fountains.

7. More humauu methods of killing disabled
horses and dogs. Also of cattle, etc., for food,

8. Pounds and refug(!8 for vagrant duga, and
an ambulance for disabled aninials.

9. I'ainloss destruction of dogs, etc.

10. And generally, a more kindly and merci-
ful treatment of (iod's creatures, remembering
that Ho has declared : " Blessed are the merci-
ful, for they shall obtain mercy.'

The Humane Society earnestly Invites every
reader to become a member of the Society, and
thus help to promote these and tbe other de-
sirable objects of the Society.

II. PROTECTION OF DEFENCELESS CHILDREN.*

This subject has been fully treated in Part
II., pages 81-144, of this publication. Writing
on this subject in the Toronto Glohe of March
20th, 1888, " Bel Thistlethwiiite" says: —

"Tlie attention o! Toroutonians has been
drawn several times of late to the work which

is being done by the Humane Society of this
city tor tho prevention of cruelty to animals,
and for the ditlusion of a sentiment which shall
give prominence to the principle of kindness
in tho treatment of chikh'on and tho <lumb
creation.

"Of the injustice to which young children

t
•1/^

• The addrcgg which coiit.'tlna the following pad and painful facts of the demoralization of the )•outh^ recently sent
to the Penitentiary at Kingston, Ontario, was not delivered when the lulitor's statement on a soniowhat siniilur toi)'e
wag printed on paijo 119 of this piiblieation (see foot-note). Dr. Lavell delivered ihu address to the scholars of the
Queen Street .Methodist Church, Kinjfston, on Sunday, the 24th .June, ISSS. lie ia Warden of the Penitentiary, and was
always a u.feful Oliriatiaii worliur. Tho facts which he states are startlini; in tlicir reality, and nliould bo deeply pon-
dered by the connuunit.v. Tlicy should incite the public to a decpor practical interest in tho waifs and strays of our
cities. The sad work of neglect and demoralization of Iheyouni; is largely Koin? on all the time. The jrreat enemy is ever
busy ; and Christian people should be not less so in seckin;; to coiinturaet bis ensnaring devices f.ir tho ruin of souls.
Dr. Lavell said :— " Of tho llfty-eiijht convicts received at the Penitentiary between .lanuary 1st and last Saturday, two-
thirds of them were under thirty years of a)fe : of the balance only one was over llfty. Of the number tliirlecn were
under twenty, and ranf;inj,' from sixteen to nineteen years of age. In addition to these, fifteen were under twcntj'-flvo
years of ago. Ho had carefully (jucstioncd the thirteen as to the causes tlmt had brou^:ht them to prison, and, believ-
ing their replies to be honest and candid, found that Ihestartin); points in their criurnal career were disobedience to
parents, bad company, and neglect of the Sabbatli-day. Five of tho thirteen admitted that they had licen guilty of
truancy from the Sabbath-school. Two-thiitls of those received at the prison this year could not read, and were those
whom no one cared for, whose parents were dead, or whose influence was not of an ennobling character. All were
youths who had been nioidded and fashiirned in crime. Some were lioy.s from the old country, who, before they were
■even years of age, were trained in crime and wh> often took part In burglaries."

ho waifii and

(Iron and the
nongst thum.

B Done.

0!jg cliiUlrrn
wrary refuge
latrial auhoul
literature in

n tains.

lliiig disabled

Etc., for food.

ant doga, and
s.

etc.
ly and inerci-

remembering
xro the nierci-

InvlteB every
e Society, and
the other de-

iN.*

ociety of this
to imiinals,
lit which shall
f kindness
id tlio dumb

juiir; children

Hh reieiitly sent
licit siiiiilar tojvc
e Bolioliirs of the
teiitiary, niid was
d bo deeply lion-
ind strays of our
eat enemy is ever
he ruin of souls,
st Saturday, two-
ber tliirtccn were
iiidcr twoiity-flvo
isoii, and, lieliev-
disobodicnce to
d lieon K"''ty o'
I, and were those
lacter. All were
letoro they were

Till': BKTTFiR CARE OF IIORSKS.

arn often suhjootod through tho thoii'^htloss-
ncHH, i.;iioi'iini;o, or inliiinriiiitv ot' their iiiruntit,
tliiadopirtiiiMntof tli.! |U|) ir (' Womvn's World')
has fritqiioiitiv Hp:ikun, but viry little tli'it [
can ii' ill hin bjun written horo on lie'iiilf of
'our r lor r.datiomi,' wIki, bjcame thiy can
m.ike I I eomplaiiit:*, we are apt to tliiiik havo
uo reuM^u to coiniilaiu."

In Kngland too, the year lAHB hun neen much
useful work acuoin|)liAho I in the direction of
hud^in^ round tho Hatred righta of the young
ehild'n life and lili:'rtie.H. l'erha|>.H Mr. Hryce's
Act for the CuHtody of Infantsi is tlie nioMt use-
ful and important muusuro to be mentioned.

III. THE BETTER CARE OF HORSES.

Chapters II. and ill. of Part I. (pai^es
15-'J!)) of this pulilicatioii, enters 80 fully into
a description of kinds of cruelty practised
towards horses, that the mere statement of
them here would naturally suggest a remedy.
It has been tliought desirable, however, to
select a few additional hints and summarize
them here, in the
hope that they
may prove ser-
viceable in pro-
moting the ob-
jects of the IIu-
iiiaiie Society in
tlieir behalf.

Proper Winter

Covering for

Horses.

In order t(i se-
cure this most de-
sirable object, the
proper protection
for horses, when
standing on the
streets in winter,
the Toronto Hu-
mane Society has
issued the follow-
ing on a card :—

"The Humane
Society cautions all drivers against the cruelty
of leaving horses standing on the streets in
cold weather without proper covering. If the
offence is persisted in the ollicer of tho Society
is instructed to iirosecnte tho party or parties
ofli'ending,"

PROPEE WINTER COVERING FOR HORSES,

Various Hints and Sugfgestions.*
Tho following are from various sources : —

1. Cold Bits. — Never put iron or steel bits
in a horse's mouth in frosty weatlier without
first warming tlieiii. They will take the skin
oil' the horbe's tongue. "An K.\periencod

Horseman," in
the Kentucky
Live. Stork lit:-
cord, reminds
those who have
the handling of
hor.soa of 'he cru-
eltyof which they
may be careless-
ly guilty :—" Let
any one who has
the care of ahorse
these cold, frosty
mornings, delib-
erately grasp in
Ills hand a piece
of iron; indeed,
let him touch it
to tho tip of his
tongue, and then
let him thrust
the bit into the
mouth of the
horse, if he has
the heart to do
The horse is an animal of nervous organiza-
tion. His mouth is formed of delicate glands
and tissues. The temperature of the blood is
the same as in the hinnan being, and, as in man,
the mouth is the warmest part of the body.
Imagine, wc repeat, tho irritation that it would

• Fuller and more valuable Itifonnation on these subjects, may be obtained from the followinpf useful iiublieatlons,
issued by two Humane Societies, viz.: 1. "Golden Rules for the Treatment of Ilnrso-iand other Animals," with illus-
trations ; pp. 120. Issued by the Woman's Branch of the Pennsylvania Ilnmane Society, Philadelphia. 2. "The Horse
Book ; or, Simjile Rules, SliowinR How to Keep and Use a Horse to Advauta^'e ; ' with illustrations ; pp. 02. Issued by
the New York Hunianu Society ; originally publiihed by the Royal Humane Society of London, 1865 ; New York, 1806.
8. "An Address to DriversofTruck.s, Omnibuses, Hacks, and other Public and Private Carriages." A tract of cij,'ht pages.
Issued for gratuitous distribution by the Woman's Branch of the Pennsylvania Humane Society, Philadelphia. Origin-
ally published by the American Humane Society, New York, 1SG9.

206

TIIK TORONTO UUMANK SOCIKTY.

)>« to the human liciii){, unit if nnt in the Ranio
ilfgroo, itill tho Mullurint; to thu ivniniul ia vury
gruat. And it jh not a inoincntiiry piiin. Food
id oaten witli dillu'iilty, and tliii iiiitiition rv-
pvatkd day after day caiiNCH Iomm of apputitit and
Mtrvngth. Many a liornu Iuih Ihh'ouio worthluss
from no othtir uaiitiu l)Ut tiiitt, llcforo India-
rnMior liits woro to ho hail I UHi'd a lilt covorod
with loatlur, and on no acconnt would liavo
diNpoiiHod witii it in frouxing wuathor."

2. CoHarx. -Keep tin: liorwe collars olcan.
Tho diiHt and dirt which adhoro to collars wlion
thoy aro wet with Hweat, works into hnnps and
riilj^cH, and soro Hhoulders aro the rcHHlt. If
the collars become hard, wasli thorn clean, pound
thcui, and apply oil.

3. IfaiiicMs,- Rcniovo the harness from tho
horses in tho hot day, whenever you desire to
give them a full, froo rest, and once during tho
day, j)rcferal)ly at night, a thorough currying
and grooming will not only give rest, but will
do about as much towanla improving tho ani-
mal's condition aa will the outs.

4. Stahlc. — Exaniino tho harness on your
working toam and you will discover that blinds,
chock-reins and cruppers aro simply torturing
I'fMitrivancos, serving no useful purpose. Take
them all off, for tho convenience of yonrsolvcs
and tho comfort of the horaos. Keep the stable
well ventilated and froo froin tho strong am-
monia, whicli is injurious to the eyes. Assist
tho animals to protect themselves against flics,
feed regularly, hitch in the shade, and remem-
ber that the caro which will give comfort to tho
lower aninuils will make them doubly profitable
to their owners, aside from the liumano bearing
upon tho subject.

5. 67ifi(/('. — Provide shade. How instinc-
tively we seek tho shadow when tho sun is
pouring its hot rays on tho dry and parching
earth. If the pasture is not provided with shade
trees, in a convenient locality, set four, six or
eight support! , across which place straw or
grass, and thus, in a brief time, aiid with littlo
labor, make a shade in which animals can rest
fron\ the heat of the sun, to tlio great comfort
of themselves and benefit to their owners.

6. Water. — Be sure that your horse has
eveiy day puio, fresh water, such as you would
be willing to drink yourself. Give him a fre-
quent opportunity to (|uench thirst at times
wlien not too much over-heated, a;id before
eating. _... ,. : = .. .

7. ■'^alt. — Give the horses salt frequently
with their grain, and if a good handful of wood

OflhoR is added once in a while, thoy will not b*
trouhlod with colic.

H. /'V/r. 'I'd get hor««'S from a burning l>am
or stiiblo when panicHtrii'ken, |int the harnesa
on them and they can then bo ua»ily and safely
removed. If no harnt-Ks is at hand, one's coat
or a blanket thrown over u i>anio-Ntricken horse 'a
head makes him tractable.

!(. 7'/i/»^'.— Think and spcidt to tho horso
before you strike it with the whip.

" I rnvoi ence thu ciinchiimn who crlo« ' (Jec,"
Ami Hiuii'iH till' liisli."
—JanipK anU Horace ^inilli'» Itf.jecttd AiUlrcmr:

10. Swcarlnij. — A profane coachman, point-
ing to one of his horses, saiil to a traveller:
"That horse, sir, knows when I swear at him."
" Yes," ••eplioil tho travollor, "ond so does Aw
Mahr."

Humane Treatment of the Toronto Street
Car Horses.

Ill Jar.u.iry, 1888, the Secretary of the Toronto
Humane Society, wrote to the Hon. F. Smith,
President of the .Street Cnr Co., asking that a
deputation of the Society bo received with a
view to a friendly talk on the suliject of over-
crowded street cars, and the treatment of tho
horses. Mr. Smith replied as follows :—

" You ask mo if I would be willing io receive
a deputation of tho three following gentlemen
of your Society : Dr. J. (jeorge Hodgins, Rev.
Canon DuMoulin, and yourself. I have a high
opinion of tho three gentlemen you name, as
having a humane and kind disposition, and
mean to do good ; but as none of these gentle-
men have haif any practice in tho working of
horses, I might not consider them as of good
authority.

" As for the overcrowding of the street cars,
the people who have that feeling should not
get on a car which they think overcrowded ;
they should go homo Kve minutes earlier, or
wait five minutes for tho next car. For you
must remember, that the largest portion of
the people go home about tho Fame time, and
it is impossible to regidate these things to
please all.

" Regarding the treatment which our horses
get, it is as follows : They are only worked not
quite four hours out of tho twenty-four — not
quite twenty-four hours in the week ; they
get all they can eat ; ore well claaned and
groomed ; a first-class bed and warm stable
in winter ; their food is of the choicest kind
that can be procured, and their owners give
them every attention and care possible ; in
fact they are better provided for than are a
large portion of human beings known aa ser-
vants.

" Many thanks for your kind suggestions,
which will be gratefully received at any time."

r will not lie
liming; iMim

tllU Imi'llCHM

y uikI Hiifdiy
I, oiiu'h coat
i^ken lioriu'ii

) tilts liorHo

rics ' (ieu,'
'1/ AililrcmcH.

mail, poiiit-
a traveller:
oar at him."
, so dou8 htK

onto Street

' the Toronto
n. l'\ .Smith,
sking that a
iived with a
)jeet of ovcr-
;tnciit of the
)W8 : —

ng to receive

j; genlkinen

odgins, Rev.

have a hi^h

oil name, as

osition, an.l

iiesu gi'titlc-

working of

as of good

3 street cars,
should not
ercrow^ded ;
s earlier, or
For you
t portion of
e time, and
;o things to

h our horses
worked not
ty-four — not
week ; they
cleaned and
warm stable
hoicest kind
owners give
jiORsible ; in
than are a
lown as ser-

suggestions,
it any time."

DUINKINO FOUNTAINS IN THE STUKKTa.

IV. DRINKING FOUNTAINS IN THE STREETS.

" The tiDkutltiil It M iiHtuI u the iiMfiil, pi-rhaix more ao." - Vifl'ir lluftn'i Ln MlteriMn.

SOT

Tlio following is from the Koport, for 1887,
of the Ohio iliiinaue Society. It 10 entirely
expresRCH the views of the Toronto Hiiinane
Mocicty that the Kilitor iiiaerts it here, with the
accompanying illustration of

Mrs. Nettleton's Fountain,

Krccted opposite the Asylum
for Aged People, on McMilhn
.Street, Walnut Hills, Phila-
delphia. It was a fountain
orccte.l by Mrs. N. U. Nettle-
ton, of I hat city, one of the
good women of the land. To
this neal^and handsome struc-
ture comes the weary man, the
thirsty horse, and the famish-
ing dog to tlnil refrcHhment.

"Refreshing to the thirsty
man, woiniin, or child is a cool
drink of water. Nothing com-
pensates for it, nothing can
take its place. Doulily so is it
to the domestic animals which
we have drafted from a state
of nature to contribute to our
own wants, our comforts and
our very existence. The horse
workin;,' in the sun, only can
drink when his mas-
ter gives him an
opportunity. Often
the driver feels that
his faithful iniimal
is thirsting for
water, but no facil-
ity is near enough
to be reached with-
out great loss of
time; lii.s poor horse
must want, wait
and suffer.

"What more
blessed thing could
be done than to es-
tablish drinking
fountains at con-
venient points in
our midst? What
a blessed use of
money !

"The Humane
Society fc's that
its appeals tor more
fountains will not be in vain ; that onr citizens
who have been blessed with money will use some
cf it in this way."

This extract, from the Ohio Report, and the
one in the next column, appeal in strong and
earnest language to the liberal-hearted among
our citizens to respond, so that the "many
fountains needed " will be supplied.

" ^J^

^jJ^lXlf ; 1

^^1

^^m

Wi''^

'■' ^VAf ' 1; :

!''

y ■:-:| ;

';,

i:/';;'/r:ii :-/■■■»''"■' '

City Fountains for Horses and Ooks.

In Toronto this omisgiou is likely to be sup-
lied this year. The Watt'rworks (loinmitti'S
have, at the instance of Mr.
Kelso, Secretary of the Hu-
mane Society, rcporteil fa-
vorably to tlio City Coun-
cil on the subject. At the
suggestion of Mr. Adam
IJrown, M. 1'., a number of
fountains are about to be
also erected in the neigh-
boring city of Hamilton.

Many Fountains arc
Needed.

What nobler use of money
could 1)6 conceived ? .Such
acts freshen and purify the
soul, and make its possessor
a typical follower of the
Master— of Ilim who wont
about doing good. Such
talents, placed in such
hands, will bo recognized ;
will be accepted as having
been properly used. No
gift to a people confers a
greater jjleasure than a
fountain, and that person
who turns aside a stream
from the field and gives a
Watering trough
to the roadside,
or provides a
fountain at which
man and beast
can drink pure
water is truly a
public benefac-
^ tor. To build
one will not cost
much; one which
will be an orna-
ment and a bless-
ing. How much
good it will do, long after the benefactor has
entered upon the reward of the good, the genet'
ous, the high-hearted !

On the road between Cincinnati and the little
hamlet of Venice, in Hntler County, the trav-
eller unexpectedly ccmos upon a fountain of

/•;

- .;

208

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

pure water. A. rustic trough is ■ o arr.ingod
that the driver may aiproauii it and allow hia
liorse to drink without descending fi-.nn hia
carriage. At a lo.i-er level ia a receptacle for
tlic ttccon)i>iodatiou of slieep, swiue and cattle.
This drinking fountain was provided in 1801 by
four young la(i!>'3, viz. : Mies Ellen Richards,
Miss Mary Cilly, Miss .-?arah J. Wade and Miss
Jenny Garnahan. Mrs. Amanda French, who
owned the land, generously donated it. Thev
were efficiently assiscud bv Mr. Henry Richardb,

and in 1867 Mr (Jiles Richards replaced the
original wooden structure by the present .sub-
stantial fountain. In IS^'o Mrs. C. R. Gilbert,
the daughter of Giles Richards, placed u tablet
upon the fount'.iu, upon which is engrared a
motto from Whittier. — Ohio lluni'Vif Society'ii
A'e/jorl.

The Humane Society feels that Its appeal for
more fountains will not be in vain; that our
citizens wiio have been blosscd with means will
use some of their money In this way.

V. HUMANE KILLING OF FISH AND CATTLE FOR FOOD.

In the case of fish, Agassiz, the noted .Swiss- Mrs. C. E. White, of Philadelphia, adds: —

American Naturalist, always taught his i)apils "There are various other ways of killing

to kill fish as soon as cauglit by a blow on the tlicni:— By making ar incision with a knife in

back of the head, that
they niignt notsufl'er be-
fore dying. Sujh fisli
keep better, and are bet-
ter to eat ; and the best fiahei men in Europe and
America always kill their fish as sooi. ^ they
catch them V)y a blow on the back of tiie heail.

different parts of tlie body — sometimes under
the tail, as is the practice among the Dutch ;
sonietiiiies back of the gills; but anything is
])ref"rable to allowing them to die from remain-
ing out of the water, that ip by sufFocation,
wliich not only is cruel, but is considered very
j)rej«dicial to the flavor of the fish, so that it
does not furnish us with nearly so good food as
if it were killed at once upon .being taken out

replaced the
present sub-
D. R. Gilbert,
laued u tablet
is engnired a
iiianii Society's

its appeal for
iin; that our
th means will
ray.

I FOOD.

phia, adds: —

ys of killing
ith a knife in

?^;-,

etimes under
r the Dutch ;
t anything is
from remain-
y sutfocation,
nsiilcred very
i.sh, so that it
> good food as
iiiT taken out

HUMANE KILLING OF FISH AND CATTl K FOR FOOD.

209

of the water. The custom of killing lobsters,
tcnapin.s and orabs by putting them into boil-
ing water is so revolting, ami appears so cruel,
that some persons of |)articularly humane dis-
positions refuse to eat them. They cannot bear
the idea, while able to procure any other kind
of food, of eating anything wh'jii has been
boiled alive."

A writer in the Humane Journal says : —

" Hardly one in a luindred of our amateur
fishermen stops to think thr.t a livii'g fish,
deprived of a peculiar means of respiration that
the water furnishes, must suffer similarly to a
human being cut oil' from its usual supply of
atmospheric air. Death by sulfociition is re-
garded as terrible, and a fish out of water,
being deprived of the oxygen that sustains it.s
blood, doubtless sutlers intensely. It is the
easiest thing to kill a lish, either by striking it
a slight blow upon the lie id or otherwise.
Experienced iisheriiicn say that a fish should
be killed immediately on being caught in order
to render it lit for the table. We know by the
fierce struggles of the i;aptive fish that it is in
severe pain, and humanity dictates that it
should be speedily put out of misery. We
have no right to intlict needless suffering upon
any creature, and the torture of a lish is quite
as bad as the torture of a dog or horse. Nearly
every day (iuring the fishing season inaj' be
observed boys carrying large strings of fish
through the streets, the movements of which
show that they are alivu and in great pain and
misery. In most cases this is the result of
thoughtlessness or ignorance. Most boys would
dislike to be thought cruel, and if they were
instructed by their parents and others on this
subject, would probably follow the rule of hu-
manity in the treatment of fishes, as they do
in the care of domestic animals. "

Killing Cattle for Food— Examples.

In the case of cattle, it ha'3 been proven by
the best scientists that an animal worried or
excited before killing is unfit for food ; it has
been shown in medic?! practice that the off-
spring, if allowed to draw nourisliment from
its inothei while the latter is in the heat of
passion, angry, or nerves shattered by pain,
will nearly always take spasms, and probably
die. Then how must it be if the animal be
killed at such a time and the flesh eaten.

Tbo municipal slaughter and investigation
houses of Berlin, Prussia, established by Minis-
terial decree of January, 18S3, show how rigid
is the inspection and care exercised in regard
t,o the slaughter of animals, oi which we have
little or no idea in this co.mtry.

The Berlin correspondent of the New York
Tribune explains the system as follows : —

" In a little suburb, within easy reach of the
city, rises the structure of one of the slaughter
and iuveatiga'-ion houses of Berlin. It is im-

posing, not from its height, but from its great
extension. Tne mural mclosure of sixty acres
and more, dotted "■ith the niiiu«rous barns,
stables, shambles, and offices, impresses the
visitant as a red-brick hamlet, save for the
piindeiiionium-like chorus of grunts, bleats and
bellowiugs. The extreme 'eanliness of every
corridor, passage and stall, removes all the re-
volting and nauseating scents that are natural
concomitants of a butchering shop. Nor is
humanity outraged at sight of the • laughter,
so humane is its execution."

When the cattle are stabled, notice is imme-
<liately £;iven to the over-su g'ion, who sends
his assistants to the preliminary examination,
which is (juite ..horough, necessitating instant
removal of any animal found externally or in-
ternally diseased. This entirely precludes the
k.liing of sick cattle; for no meat for Berlin
consumption, of whatever kind, is allowed to
be killed in any other place than in the pre-
scribed slaughter-house. The veterinary police
have under their supervision tne different shops
where meat is sold, and which must bear the
city stamp. Rarely are mistakes made in these
summary examinations, The veterinary police
and farriers are, as a rule, skilled and educated
men. — Humane Society Report.

Transported Cattle are Dangerous Food.

The I']ditor has, in Chapter V. of Part I. of
this publication (pages 33-.38), pointed out the
great risk to life and health which people run
who eat the meat of cattle transported by rail.
The following on the subject from the Anv rican
Mnrket7nan refers to the subject thus: —

' ■ One would naturally suppose that cattle
having been ilriven from the ranches to the
train at Kansas City, carefully graziiig on the
way, would be in prime condition for shipment
or the shambles. Though the hard and trying
part of the long journey is not begun, still the
meat of the majority of cattle arriving at Kan-
sas City from the ranches is no more fit for hu-
man sustenance than is that of an animal wor-
ried and driven to death by men and brutes.
No butcher should feel safe from the clutches
of civil as well us the moral law to ex|)ose for
sale meat so killed. So with all tiiese iiilmenls
contracted by the drive and poor diet, aggra-
vated by exposure to a climate to which the
poor things are unaccustomed, they arrive at
the shipping point tired, feverish, lame, and
vitality generally impaired even among the
more robust of the entire lierd. Again, the
cattle are often stiff and lame from their long
walk— the results being inflammation and fever,
which many times have been disastrous to ship-
pers, entire cars being decimated. "

The larger cities are in greater peril from the
evils mentioned above than are country villages
and town;?, owing to the fact that the citizens
are, as a rule, unconscious of them. People

210

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

assume, as a matter of coiirsa, that their supply
of meat is derived from tliu adjoiniuj; neighbor-
hood, and not by railway. They shoidd, tliere-
fore, satisfy themselves on this point, and aot
run any risk to themselves and families.

Poisoned Milk of Frightened Cows.

No man who owns a cow can afford to .lavo
her afraid of him. It is a loss to the owner
every time she is frightened. To run a cow to
pasture is tlirowiiig money away. The cow is
a milk-makint,' machino, and should b-j kept in
the best working condition, and this condition
is one of quiet, A cow in any way worried will
not do l\cr best. The milk of a frightened or
abused cow is poisonous. Make pets of the
cows and thoy will make money for the owner.
Cows liave great afl'cct: jn for their young. The
gentlest cow will fight for her calf. At Nor<,h
Conway, near the White Mountains, a few
years ago, a cow fought and wounded and drove
off a large bear that tried to get her calf. A

boy also, while watching the cows, was attacked
by a wolf. One of the cows came to his rescue,
attacked the wolf, and saved the boy's life. —
Our Dumb Animals.

Mr, Angell, writing on this subject, says: —

" I woidd not like to drink the milk of a cow
that had been frightened, or in any way abused,
for I should know it would not be wholesome.
I should not like to drink the milk of a cow
that is kept al 'le 'n a stible, or that does not
have fresh air, exercise and sunshine; for a
creature that is ke))f alone is likely to be very
lonely an t unhappy; and a creature that docs
not have air, excrciso and sunshine is likely to
be unhealthy, and give poor and dangerous
milk. If we want good milk we nnist treat tlic
cows kindly. One of the greatest dairymen in
America says that ' he always speaks as kindly
to liis cows as he would to a lady. ' We cannot
treat unkindly any of God's creatures that sup-
ply us with food without danger of sutfering
ourselves.

"No creature, either bird or beast or fish,
should ever be permitted to suffer long before
dying, because it is cruel to the creature and
injures the meat."

VI. MERCIFUL KILLING OF DISABLED HORSES AND DOGS.

Killing; Disabled or Diseased Horses.

Killing Disabled or Diseased Dogs.

When horses meet with a serious accident, it In similar cases dogs may often require to be
is often necessary to despatch them without speedily put to death. Wnen so necessary ob-
dclay, so as to put an end to their sufferings, serve the following rule : —

V. \\^^^

■^ ,>.>=-;< M>'

In that case, the following method is suggested iSi^oo'/;!//. — Place the pistol muzzle rear the

by the Society:— heati, aiming a little to one side of the centre

ShooliiKj. — Place the pistol mu/.zle within a of the top of the skull, and shoot downward at

few inches of the head, and shoot at the dot, the dot, so that the bullet shall go through the

aiming towards the centre of the head. brain into or toward tlie neck.

NoTK. — Be careful not to shoot too low at Note, — Do not shoot too low, or directly In

the horse's head. the middle, because of the thick lioues.

HUMANE CARE AND PAINLESS DESTRUCTION OF DOGS.

211

VII. HUMANE CARE, AND PAINLESS DESTRUCTION,
OF DOGS AND OTHER CREATURES.

" Take no pleasure in the death of a creature. It it ho harinlegs or useful, destroy it not ; if it bo iisclofs or harm-
ful, dfstro.v it incrcifuUy. He that nRrcifu'ily inailo UU creatures for tliy sake, expects thy mercy upon them for liis
sake. Mercy turns her back on tlu unmerciful."— QujiriM.

There are two things, in regard to dogs,
which tiie Toroiito flumano Society is anxious
to see undertaken, either under tlie special
direction of the city authorities, or by tlio
Society itself : —

Fimt — A ci^'Y pound and refuge for homeless
animals, and for
va^.{rant and un-
licensed dogs.

Second— A hu-
n.uue method of
killing dogs and
other animals
doomed to de-
struction.

Both of these,
and other hu-
mane schemes,
are in successful
operation in the
city of Philadel-
phia, under the
direction of the
Woman's Branch
of the Pennsyl-
vania Humane
Society.

At the request
of the Editor of
this publication,
Mr. Kelso, Secre-
tary of the To-
ronto Society, has
prepared the fol-
lowing statement
on this subject :

"The rapid in-
crease of dogs
in Toronto has
caused a great
deal of discussion

in the city from time to time. If financially
able, the Toronto Humane Society would gladly
undertake the work of catcliing and mercifully
putting to death unlicensed animals. Tlie Wo-
man's Branch of the Pennsylvania Humane
Society has been giving particidar attention to
this subject for many years, and, in I'liiladel-

Jt>OOU (JlIII^UKEX PLEADING FOR TllKIU I'ET DOl!

phia, this work is entirely under their control.
It is supported ciiiefiy by an annual grant from
the corporation of 83,500. Tlie method of put-
ting these animals to death (as explained fur-
ther on) is asphyxia, by catbonoua oxide gas.
The Society, by means of persons employed

for that purpose,
has taken up and
put to death the
greater part of
the vagrant dogs
running at large
in the city. The
animals are col-
lected in a small
chamber, into
which the gas is
allowed to enter.
Without any ap-
parent signs of
suffering the ani-
mals soon become
insensible, and
death ensues in
the space of a few
mim.tes, usually
at the time they
fail insensible.

"This work,
being under the
direction of a Hu-
mane Society, ia
a guarantee that
it will be done
without undue
pain or cruelty.
Arrangements
could be made
whereby valuable
animals would
not be unneces-
sarily destroyed until ample time were given
for tlieir redemption.

"In cases where the dog was the pet of a
poor child or family, as shown in the illustra-
tion, assistance might be given to make up the
rcjdemption fee."
In Philadelphia the Humane Society paid

212

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

$33.75 to the city treasury in lielping poor peo-
ple to redeem their dogs. The report says:
"No one without experience can know how
much distress is caused in families of tlie poor

when the cliildrou lose their dog. And many
a poor womaa, in going out to her day's work,
depends for tlie protection of her house and
children in their absence upon their'dog."

VIII. THE PHILADELPHIA SYSTEM OF DEALING
WITH VAGRANT DOGS.

'• - !■

The Philadelphia system of dealing with
vagrant and unlicensed dogs is very comp. te,
and very satisfactory in its working. It has
now been in operation for many years under
the care and direction of the Woman's Branch,
as already ex-
plained, licing,
therefore, desir-
ous of obtaining
the fullest infor-
mation on the
subject, the Edit-
or of this publica-
tion correspond-
ed with the Phila-
delphia ^Manager
on the subject.
The obliging 7p
Vice-President of
the branch (Miss
Adcle Biddle) has
kindly furnished
the Editor with
several reports,
from which, and her letters,
formation is chiefly compiled

• Capturing of Vagrant Dogs.
It was on account of the former cruel method
of killing the dogs taken up under the city
ordinance, that the Woman's Branch deter-
mined to make an effort to obtain the contract
from the city authorities, and so have the taking
up of the dogs and the putting of them to death
under its control. The contract was, as desired,
given to the Society. One of the cruel modes
of capturing dogs was by the lasso. When the
dog resisted capture, as he naturally would, he
was liable to be choked to death. Now stout

nets are made and fastened on a ring and thrown
over the dogs, and they are thus secured.

Modes of Putting Dogs to Death.
The first change made by our Branch was

the abolition of
the use of clubs,
with which the
dogs had been
killed, by strik-
ing them on the
head. The first
•node adopted of
putting dogs to
death was by the
use for that pur-
pose of a gas
formed of chem-
icals of carbonic
acid (as shown in
the illustration).
But subsequently
a better way was
adopted, viz., the
use of gas formed
by charcoal— car-
bonouB oxide —
which is very
simple and inexpensive. The requirements for
this process are ; an air-tight chamber with a
stove, or stoves, placed outside of it ; pipes and
dampers so arranged that when the charcoal is
generating the fatal gas, it can be turned into
the chamber in which the dogs are confined.

Another mode which has been suggested of
putting dogs to death is by electricity. It is
instantaneous ; but we believe tlie gas to be an
almost paink .d mode, as the animals so soon
become insensible on inhaling it.*

'^^

•The Toronto H'oj'W of June 28th, 1838, imlilishes the following:— "The dogfs In tlie pound at Npw York are to
be killed by olectficity without waitinj,' for the new law us to capital punishment to go into effect. Sir. Schuyler S.
Wheeler, the electrieal expait of the Roard of Klectrieal Control, has aiijirpstc^H jirni-ni-ing a gag ei'ginc, a dynamo and
a hopper BOinewhiit similar to tlio top of an cld-fashionej coffee mill. Two sides nf the hoppei will be of zinc or other
highlv conductive material and the two p^lcs of the circuit will be attached to them. Then the ilogs can be dropped
into the hopper, and aj they como in contict with both zinc; plates the circuit will be completed and the animals
receive their deith-sliook. Mr. Wheeler savs 800 volts of electricity will probably suffice to kill a dog, but he has
recouimen<led usinj 100 ) volts so as to insure success.'

THE PHILADELPHIA SYSTEM OF DEALING WITH DOGS.

213

Time of Killing Vagrant Dogs.

The law requires a dolay of only 2t iiours
before the captured dog is killed. The Society's
rule, liowever, is that even the least valuable
dog siiall bo kept for three days. Of course
they receive food and water while in pound.

Dogs in the City Pound and Shelter.

The Superintendent lives at the pound. Two
large yards adjoin his liouse, surrounded by a
high fence. The dogs are let loose and cared
for in tliose yards. Many of tlie captured dogs
are redeeiied cither from the waggon or from
til pound, at a cost of S'l eacli, which is paid
into the city treasury. The following are the
particulars in detail : —

During the year 1887 there have been received
at the city pound and slieltor 4,422 dogs. Of
these 3,409 were taken up in the streets, and
923 were sent in by tlieir owners, or sent for
singly by the Superintendent.

Number of dogs killed at the pound .... 3,405
Killed within the city because homeles-s,

sick or injured 2,120

Total 5,52.5

i^'umber of dogs redeemed at §2 each-. . . 943
Redemption money paid the city $1,880

Of the remainder, some were returned to their
owners by the Society and the city, 8 were given
away, and 9 remain over. Fifteen of the best
dogs that were unclaimed were redeemed 1 y
the Society and sold. Four that were presented
to the Society were sold. Fifty-five persons
not able to pay the whole redemption fee were
assisted to make it up ; in many cases the dog
was the pet of a poor child.

Number of goats taken up and delivered at
the Almshouse, 200.

Humane Killing of Dogs by Request.

Owners of dogs often write to the Superinten-
dent of the pound to send for dogs which thjy
wish killed. They also bring them there for
the same purpose. The mode of killing in such
cases is by the fume.s of cliarcoal, as explained
on the preceding page. The theory of this
method of killing is based on the poisonous
nature of carbonic oxide gas. This gas burn.s
in the air with a blue flame, but when so burn-
ing it is converted into carbonic acid gas, which
is not so deadly. When tlie fuel ia in condition
to burn on top with a blue gas, and then the
upper part of the stove is closed tight so that
no air can get into it, the (lanie will be extin-

guished, and the poisonous gas will pass into
the box through the pipes.

Humane Killing of Cats.

After much consultation with veterinary sur-
gRons and experts, no better or more merciful
method of killing cats has been found than to
put, with a long-handled wooden spoon, about
half a tcaspoonful of pure cyanide of potassium
on the cat's tongue, as ne.vr the throat as possi-
ble. The suffering is only for a few seconds.
Great care must be used to got pure cyanide of
potassium, and to keep it tightly corked.

Refuge for Lost and Suffering Animals.

The Philadelphia refuge was established in
1874. To it arc brought homeless animals, wan-
dering about the streets and alleys, whose lives
are a burden to themselves, and a greater
burden to those who feel for their sufferings.
Up to the end of the year 1887, 9:1,530 animals
of various sorts were received into the refuge.
During the year 1887, the luimbcrs were 13, ."04.
Of these 11,180 were cats, and 2,124 were dogs.
During the previous year (18S8), 4 rats, 3 rab-
bits, 3 canaries, sparrows, and 2 chickens,
more or less suffering, were brought to be mer-
cifully put to death. In addition, 120 favorite
cats were taken in as boanlers.

Infirmary for Various Animals.

Mrs. R. W. Ryerss, a kind and generous
friend of the Society in Philadelphia, be-
queathed §70,000 to found an infirmary for
animals apart from the refuge.

The Toronto Mail of the 26th June, 1888,
states that on the preceding Wed.iesday (20th
June) the Baroness linrdett-Coutts opened the
"Animal Institute ' in Belgrave '(juare, London.
"It is a largo hospital for the treatment of all
kinds of injured animals. Pugs of the opulent
must pay for their medicine; but the mongrel
dog of poverty will be there cared for gratis."

Home for Toronto Dogs.

In a letter to tho Toronto .l/a(7 of the 7th of
July, 1888, Mr. Henry Cawthra, of College
Street, gives the following good reasons for
the establishment of a temporary home for lost
and vagrant dogs in Toronto. Ho also does
more ; he promises good substantial assistance
in t'.io establishment of such a home by the
Tcronto Humane Society. It is to bo hoped
that other wealthy citizens will follow Mr.

214

THE TOUONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Cawthra's encouraging and benevolent ex-
ample. He says : —

"Having advertised in vain for a lost skye
terrier pup, 1 went to<lay to searoii for liiin at
tlie dog's pound. 1 was told that 80 dogs were
there, all of which are to be du-itniyed to-nior-
low, Saturday. Tlio man in charge kindly
showed me to tlie kennels. I bolicve there
are dogs there whose owners would be glad to
rescue them. 1 hope this may attract their
attention in time to save some poor brute their
children are attached to. IJut the purport of
this letter is to suggest a dogs' home like tliat
in Loudon, authorized by Parliament, where
only useless curs are destroyed, and valuable
dogs, after dct-ntion for a fixed time, without
reclamation, are sold to purchasers whose title
is good against former owners. This is more
humane than indiscriminate destruction of
Valuable animals. And if the Humane Society,
or some humane ladies, will undertake the
task, I promise them on my own and some
friends' behalf a subscription to start a dogs'
liome. "

tures. Every comfort and convenience is at
hand to make life pleasant and easy to the
old horses. Summer and winter boxes, largo
and airy, warm clothes, regular and plentiful
meals, un extensive stable yard for winter exer-
cises, and a splendid grass run are at their dis-
posal ; and if anything ails the ancient almon-
ers the veterinary surgeon of the Society conies
with his skill to their aid."

Ohio. — The Ohio Humane Society is desirous
of establishing a home or pound for all home-
less animals where they can receive proper tem-
porary care and, if neceseary, be humanely
killed. It states — and this is true of Toronto
also — that if a portion or all of the dog tax could
be secured for this purpose, if would be of great
public benefit. One important advantage would
b^ that, in connection with such a home as this,
the Society might establish a free clinic for the
treatment of diseased or injured animals, whose
owners are not able to provide care for them.

•V-

' -1"

i-
1

[
L

Homes and Pounds Elsewhere.

Russia. — In 1887, the St. Petersburg Humane
Society renewed for three years its contract
with the municipal authorities for the taking
up and disposing of stray dogs. The Society is
to have besides 500 roubles and a site for a tem-
porary dogs' home, 3,000 roubles yearly for
three years.

Italy. — In Florence the dog-catchers make
their rounds twice a day. The owners have to
pay from 10 to 25 francs ;ine, and 1 franc 70
cents u day while in pound. 900 dogs were
captured in 1887. Those not redeemed were
destroyed by asphyxia (charcoal), as in Phila-
delphia. The railway directors of Northern
Italy also require that all fowls (poultry or
birds), of any kind alive, shaU be placed in bas-
kets or cages, with boards at the bottom, so
constructed as to contain drinking vessels, and
BufBcient room for the creatures in them to
move about freely. I'^qual care is also taken in
the transport of cattle. Other steps are being
taken to prevent cruelty to animals. Queen
Victoria became Honorary Patroness of the
Society in 1881, and received an address from it
during her visit there in 18S8. The Society is
chiefly supported, greatly to their honor, by
English residents in Italy.

England. — In the Toronto Mail of the 15th
June, 1888, it is stated that —

"A home or rest for horses is a successful
English scheme. The chief object is to give
temporary rest to the horses of cab-drivers and
poor traders, who in most cases are obliged to
keep their beasts at work until past help, when
a timely holiday would restore the poor crea-

Dcar Little Baby's Confession.

With his little soft hand in mine.

And the light on his golden hair,
My baby after his day of play

Kneels down for his evening prayer.
His eyes gaze into the unknown land.

As ho whispers each .solemn word,
And he speaks of " dying l)efore he wakes,*'

With the look of a startled bird.

Then he tells with a quivering lip,

Of the deed he has done to-day —
How a butterfly stopped at a rose to sip,

And he killed it in his p'.ay. i.
Ne'er to a murderous soul \

Comes anguish and grief and f"ar
In a stronger tide than sweeps to night

O'er the soul of my baby dear.

But I soothe the little trembler.

And hold him in my arms,
And give him the comfort that mothers know.

His grief to soothe and charm.
Till he whispers, raising his soft, blue eyes,

Where the tears still hanging lie—
" I dcss do butterfly has a dood time,

In de roses in de sky ! "

Then I lay the bright head on the pillow,

Wi*,h a lingering good-night kiss,
Thinking how much God loved me

To give me a child like this ;
And 1 piay, as 1 turn from the bedside,

He will help me guide aright
The feet of the little darling

I leave in His care to-night.

—Sunday Magazine.

FORMATION OF LOCAL HUMANE SOCIETIES.

215

IX. FORMATION OF LOCAL HUMANE SOCIETIES.

How to Organize a Humane Society.

The estublislinicnt of ii Humanu Society in
any coinnnuiity would have a most beneficial
cllect in lessening the practice of cruelty gen-
erally, and in calling attention to the necessity
of sliowing more kindness to dumb animals, and
in caring for ill-used or neglected children, .^s
a rule, people are generally kindly disposed,
yet there is much that may be learned, even
among a very intelligent people, as to tiieir
duty to all kinds of aniniul life. To organize a
Society it is only necessary for some person to
secure the signatures of those who may wish to
have a Society to a petition to the Mayor, or
Reeve, of a municipality, asking him to call a
public meeting to discuss the subject. Care
should be taken beforehand to obtain informa-
tion as to the scope and objects of sucli an
organization, and to secure a few ready and
sympathetic speakers. The petition might be
in tlie foUowirj form: —

To the Mayor, or Reeve, of the Municipality

of .

The undersigned residents of and its

vicinity are desirous of organizing a Humane

Society at , and to that end request you

to call a public meeting of the inhabitants of
this municipiility (town or viiiage], for tihe
purpose of organizing among us a Humane
Society.

Dated this — day of , A.D., 18—.

(Signed by ten w twelve reliable citizens.)

The topics to be discussed at the formation
of a local or branch Society might be one or
more of the following: —

vSome facts about the benevolent effects of
Humane Societies generally; the condition of
animals before these Societies were formed ;
cruelty to wild birds and caged birds; eiiectsof
cruelty on the meats we eat, and on the milk
we drink, and to fish; and how old and injured
domestic animals can be killed mercifully.
Speak also of cruelty to lol)8tt'rs, frogs and toads ;
of carrying poultry witli hoads hanging down;
sticking pins into insects ; keeping fish in glass
globes ; that earth worms, turtles, etc. , are
harmless and useful. Recommend them to feed
the tirds in winter, and speak of the great
advantages which have come from having pet
animals well taken care of.

In regard to horses, speak of cruelty in
blinders, check-reins, overloading, frosty bits.

twitching the reins wliile driving, not feeding
and watering often, which the small stoniachs
of horses require.

Organization for Humane Work.

Mr. Oscar 15. Todhunter, of Cincinnati, Ohio,
writing on this subject, in effect says : —

" With a permanent headquarters in charge
of a proper executive otticer, the Muinane So-
ciety could soon wield a powerful inlluence for
good. The headquarters could be made a
rallying point from whicli could bo arrayed in
line and set liarnioniously at work all the hu-
mane fo)'-e3 of the country. It would soon
becon>o a bureau of information upon all
hu'iiane topics. The executive officer — call
liiin the secretary — could inform himself of the
jxact status of humane work in every section
of the country, and could collect data upon
every topic of direct or collateral interest.
Now let us illustrate some of the results which
might follow the proposed arrangement.

" 1. Funds for different purposes might be
established, as for instance, an organizing fund,
to be expended in securing organizations in
those localities where none exist ; a literature
f\md, to be expended in the publication and
distribution of humane literature ; and so on
with other funds.

" 2. Agents iuight be employed and sent into
places wli(!re no work has been done to secure
legislation and organization.

"3. Plans might be matured and courses of
lessons, and books might be prepared so as to
secure the general introduction of some uniform
system of humane instruction in the public and
Sunday-schools.

"4 In like maimer, matter could bo prepared
to furnish to ministers of the gospel to induce
them to preach on humane topics occasionally,
""i. By means of carefully prepared circular
matter, the whole press of the country could
be arrayed, as occasion might arise, against
such a fashion as wearing the plumage of birds,
or using check-reins, or against hydrophobia
delusions. In the same way seasonable hints
in regard to the care of animals could be sent
out from time to time, and many other things
could be done which will occur to you.

"0. The establishment of veterinary schools
could be encouraged and veterinary knowledge
could be circulated,

" 7. A perfected series of humane laws could
be proposed and advocated.

"8. The best methods for rescuing and pro-
viding for unfortunate and dependent chihlren
could be urged upon public attention in the
different states.

' ' 9. Lecture courses ootild be organized and
capable lecturers put in the field.

" 10. Matured and systematic plans for organ-

216

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOClBrfY.

fzing Uiiiuls of Mtiroy, Audubon* Societies, and
otlier sucli ]io|)uliir iiuxiliary iiiovoniuiits could
bu put into opuration.

Need of Local Humane Societies.

The local Huniano Societies are greatly
" needed in every comniunity, town, village and
city. It has often been I'eiiiaiked: 'We iiave
no cruelty to animals or luiman beings in our
place.' Now, it may be asserted that there is
not a comniunity of one hundred inliaijitant.s in a
locality where tliero is not more or less cruelty
practised cverj' day in the year. To learn this
to bo true, we have only to give it our atten-
tion. Organize a Society, and it will soon lind
all the work it can perform."- ./o/ut If. iVood-
hull. ■,,.,..

Rules for Branch Humane Societies.

Such a Society, if formed in a town or village,

mitsht, for greater pernianenco and elHciency,
subsequently connect itself as a branch Society,
with a larger one in a neighboring city.

1. Its management sliould be in the hands of
an active and vigilant Committee.

2. The Committee to consist of its elected
members.

3. It should appoint its own officers, one of
whom shall be named its chairman. ,

4. It may nuike its own V)y-laws.

5. It may collect and disburse its own funds.

6. It shall hold its annual meeting at a date
to bo fixed, and at which meeting its chairmaa
shall be, and other ollicors nuty be, clcctetl.

7. It may ajipoint one or more local agents
for practical work, if found necessary.

8. Its cliairman shall be ex-officio a Vice-Pre-
eident of the parent Society.

0. It shall bo entitled to representation at
the annual meeting of the parent Society, by
three elected delegates, exclusive of the chair-
man.

It shoiihl be distinctly understood that the
parent Society asks no financial assistance from
branch Societies in tiie form of fumls, unlesa
voluntarily ollered, or with a view to the diti'u-
sion of the pn-ent Society's publications of hu-
mane literature.

Diffusion of Humane Literature.

Mr. Ciiarles 1{. Krascr, of Ohio, writing on
the subject of this dillusion, says: —

" Humane literature is one of the most im-
T)()rtant factors in educating not only offenders,
but agents and otlicers of .Societies. They
should always l>e supplieil with a quantity of
this class of literature ; and if distributed
pro|)eily, to teamsters, car drivers, farmers,
stockmen, etc., it will be sure ^o improve them
in the humane cau.se. Officers of Societies
should make regular visits to the stock-yards,
dairies, slaughtc- '\ouses, etc. , and at these
places they should leave copit'S of any publica-
tion of humane literature which they can ob-
tain. "

X. OTHER KINDRED AND DESIRABLE OBJECTS.

The Toronto Fresh Air Fund.

The useful and bcnevo'ent purposes of this
Fund are explained and illustrated on page 136
of this publication.

The Beneficent Flower Mission.

The Flower Mission is one of the simplest and
sweetest of the charities. It has already, where
it exists, dispensed comfort and blessing to the
bedsides of sickness and the work-rooms of
weary toil. It first originated with a Bo.ston
girl, in the following manner: —

Walkhig along the streets one hot summer
day, with a bunch of llowers for a sick friend,
this girl noticed, as probably many others would

have done, how many of the passers by turned
to look at it; how little children begged for
"just one flower, please"; and the weary and
dusty ones seemed to brighten a little as it
passed. The thought occurred to her. Why
could not the flowers so abundantly lavi.slied
upon the country be tjrought to those who can-
not go to them — to those who by sickness, or
poverty, or toil, are confined all the long, hot
summer months in the c ._ .

Being not only a thinker but a doer also, this
idea resulted, by the aid of other.s, in what is
known as the Flower Mission of Hollis Street .
Chapel - so called because of the pleasant room
kindly offered for its headquarters.

Those who arc well and surrounded by TiB-

■ It is stated on very good authority that some year.1 ago thee arrived at the Cataract House, Nicjfnra Falls, nn
old-lool<iriif man, whose appearauco and duportnient were quite in contrast with the crowds of well-dressed people
thai resorted thither. Yet he was mure nottd than anyone in the wliole company. He liad heen entertained with
distinction at the table of princes, learned societies, to which the like of Cuvier belonged ; for be was John J. Audubon,
the famous American ornithologist

OTHER KINDRED AND DESIRABLE OBJECTS.

817

I're-

by turned
;ge(l for
ciiry ami
ttlo as it
m; Why
lavished
who can-
ikuess, or
long, hot

turo's heantios can scarcely realixo how a dimple
l>oui|iiet will hrightcn the tedious routiii.i of
hospital life and sull'criiig. And it is not un-
likely that with such gifts one may overhear
snatches of low conversation wliic'; show that
the gift of (lowers is l)ut u cover for otiicr and
more r.i'.))S'tantial bounties. Indeed, the (lower
itself is but a trille compared with the thought
and good-will which j)rompt8 the o(Tering. And
it is this which makes the Flower Mission thrice
blessed.

Those who distribute the flowers can tell
many interesting
incidents attendant
upon their pleasant
task. Oftentimes
the flowers are de-
clined at first, the
girls thinking they
must bo paid for;
and it does not take
a profound niatho-
maticiun to calcu-
late how much, out
of a week's wages of
four or five dollars,
a girl can spare for
the luxury of flow-
ers. But when they
understand that
they are a free gift
from those in the
country to those in
the city, the plea-
sure with which
they are received
and put in some im-
provised vase, and

set upon the sewing machine or on the window
scat, where the sight of them may shorten the
weary hours, and suggest, in the midst of heat
and steam and stifling air, the green woods —
this, if seen, would repay, many times over, the
trouble that the gift has cost.

Sometimes they are sent to the city jail and
state prison; and wherever they go they are

A cmi-D S HELPFCIi IDE V OF HOSPITAL SUNDAY.

aeon to touch and awaken that which is best in
every human being. They are also sent to the
city missionaries for distribution in niiMerablo
qtiartcrs which tlxsy strive to purify. And one
of them told, with tears in Ids eyes, how he had
seemed to reach, by the simple gift of a (lower,
hearts which for months he had been trying in
vain to touch. *

It is gratifying to know that within the lastfew
years a kind lady on Jarvis .Street, in this city,
established and most successfully carried out the
benevolent and beneficent objects of a Flower

Mission inToronto.t
A children's flow-
er service was held
in connection with
St. Peter's (-'hurch
Mission, Toronto,
on Juno 3rd, 1888.
'i'ho ttvanijelical
Churchman of June
•2Sth states that —

"The service
was very bright and
interesting. Quito
a number of bou-
quets and plants
were brought in by
the children, which,
after being decor-
ated with Scripture
texts, were sent to
tlie Female Mercer
Reformatory, To-
ronto,"

A Hospital Sun-
day in Toronto.

In 1887 and '88 a»
effort was made to
establish a Hospital Sunday in Toronto, but
for various reasons it was not successful. The
Toronto Evanqdical Chvvchmnn in November,
18S7, publishes the following account of the
ellbrt made to establish this commendable en-
terprise as an "institution" in Toronto: —

" On the 24th ult. a paper on this subject was
read before the Toronto Ministerial Association

^ra Falla, i>ii
CBsed people
rtained with
J. .'.adubon,

* Those who have read Misa Jlarsh's touching and beautiful sketches of her work for the Master will remember the
illustrative case of this kind which she mentions in " The Rift in the Clouds" (Nisbet A. Co., London ; Carter nrothcrs,
New York), under the heading of "A Crimson Azalea." Every effort of hers having failed of reaching the heart
and conscience of a young consumptive, she sent hira a crimson azalea in full bloom. It so touched him that he after-
wards welcomed her gladly, and she delivered her message with such an assurance of its acceptance, that she ever
rejoiced that her simple effort to reach him had been so blessed.

t The Kingston (Ontario) Whig of Monday, the 25th June, 1898, mentions that Flower Sunday was celebrated in the
Queen Street Methodist Church in that city on the previous day. The Editor says :— "The edifice was gay with flowers
and plants. They wore banked about the pulpit, altar, and across the orchestral rail. The preacher was almost hid
in the profusion of bouquets and flowering pots. Many of the attendants wore boutonicrs and bouquets." The sermon
was on flowers, their beauty and usefulness. The display was afterward, we believe, distributed amongst the various
city charities.

218

THE TORONTO irUMANK SOCIKTY.

liy Dr. J. tJcorjjc HndKinn. Wn lia\'n only rcKiiii
for tho fii'Mt iinil lawt |nirt of it. Wo cordially
coininvn(i tho Hiiltjoct to our rciuli'iH. Ho Hiiid :

" ' Suoli un iiiHtitution hh I propoae to advo-
ciito in tliiH pajior Iiiih lu-on in cxintontui in ['".Mid-
land for Hourly thirty yoars. It is, thonforo,
no novolty tlioro, ami 1 truHt that it will Hoon
be no novolty horo.

" 'The iiiiwt practioal of tho lihoral givers for
bonovolont ohjcctM have vvvr soiijjht to dovoli-p
on a broad and lihoral woalo a sohomo of Hy«to-
niatio honovoh'Ufo, so i\.» to niako it a poroniiial
Houroo of iintohl good, not only to those who re-
oeivo, Imt oupooially to those who give ; for have
wo not tho divine warrant for Haying, " It is
more blessed to give than to roeeivo "?

" ' Ono of tho most Hiiooossful oll'oi'ts in this
direction has bofui the establishment in various
cities of I'lngland of an organization known there
as Hospital Sunday. 'I hey have also added to
its ollii'ionoy liy instituting Hospital Week, and
in some phues Hospital .Saturday.

" ' lloxpital Weik, as tho Secretary of tho
fmid ill London informed niu, "is tho week bo-
fore Hos|)ital Sunday, in which special public
meetings are held in as many jiarts of London
as jiossible, to try and educate the masses on
the subject of lu)spita!s and what they do, and
then to try and get ah many as possible to
church or chapel on the Sunday to give their
contributions." Such an efl'ort, as will be seen,
must have a most beneficial eli'ect on the Sun-
day attendance at jiublic worship.

" ' In speaking of Hospital Sunday, C.'anon
Miller, of iiirmingham, says, " Moth in Birming-
ham aiul Liverpool they are not only continu-
ing tliinr Hos])ital Sunday, but there is a very
remarkable movement still more satisfactory,
namely, there is being initiated at Iiirmingham
ft Hospital Saturday — a movement by whicli the
artisans will have an op])ortiinity of contribut-
ing to institutions from which they derive so
much l)eiicfit." . . .

"'Hospital Sunday, as its name implies, is
one special Sunday in the year set apart, on
which, from all of the pulpits of the metrojjolis,
the claims of the sick and sutie-ing, and those
who otherwise " have no liolpei ," are brought
before the various congregation and a special
collection for their boiiefit is taken up. These
various collections are thrown into one connnon
fund, and it. is distributed amongst all of tho
hospitals and kindred institutions.

"'After Hospital Sunday had proved to be
a practical success in Birmingham, Christian
benevolence .vas invoked on its behalf in Man-
chester, Liverpool, Leeds, Newcastle, Chester,
and many other large towns in Kngland. It
soon became one of the po])n'iar institutions, or
enterprises, in these important centres of popu-
lation. In 1873 an inlluential mooting was hold
in Loiulon to ])romoto its establishment in the
metropolis. Representatives from all of the
churches took ])art in that important gathering,
under the prcsi<lcncy of the Lord Mayor.

"'There is no reason, in our small commu-
nity, why the objects and contributions of Hos-
pital Sunday in Toronto should not embrace tho
whole field of our charities, including the Hos-
pitals and those of institutions recently estab-
lished, especially the Humane Society, the Re-

lief Society, tho Industrial Institute for Girls
and the Imlustrial School for Hoys It would
have the oU'ect of giving a wider scope to the
objects of tho pro))o^<ed Sun<lay, and would tend
to enlist tho symnathies of the entire comn'..i-
nity, for every oliject likely to o.xi'ito its in-
terest or regard would bo ombra(^od in tho field
of ojieration. Tho Mayor, as in London, might
be pre.sidont and treasurer ex officio.'

AOVASTAOES OF HOSPITAt SUNHAY.

"The following is tho conclusion of Dr.
Hodgiiis' paper: —

" • It only remains for mo to summii.ri/e some
of tho advantages of tho institution of Hospital
Sunday in Toronto; —

" ' 1. It woidd, on the j)rinciple of concentt -
tion, emphasize, from all the pulpits of this cit\
with a distinctness and force never before felt,
the great and exalted principle of ('hristian
benovolonce, and of giving to those in need for
tho Master's sake. •

" "2 It would bring home to the entire com-
munity pointedly, at least once a year, a sense
of their resi)onsibility and duty to those of our
brethren wlio are iielpless and dej)ondont upon
others for loving care and sympathy.

" ' 3. It would be a means of dillusing among
the mass of our citizens srnno information in re-
gard to our various charities and benevolent in-
stitutions; and it woidd incite a desire to know
more about them than is generally known at
present.

"'4. Such information thus diflTused, with
the loving appeal which would accompany it,
would have the etl'oct of stimulating a desire to
respond to an appeal thus made.

" ' o. The efl'ect of giving under such circum-
stances would bo to neutralize the evil ert'ects of
perfunctory giving — merely to get rid of tho
collector. Such giving, as the last report of the
Wisconsin State l>oard of Charities points out,
" is the easiest and cheapest way to get rid of
the subject; but it is not true charity. The
truest charity," it states, "gives thought and
sympathy, and time and trouble, and then gives
money when it is really needed."

"'6. It would greatly lighten the arduous
labors of the devoted Christian ladies (though
it would not relievo them of tho duty), on whom
devolve the difhcult and often discouraging task
of collecting for our charities

"'7. It would concentrate public attention
on tho condition and needs of the less favored
amongst lis, and who, as children of a common
Father, are dependent upon tho lolp and minis-
trations of those who lovingly a-;knowledge the
Fatherhood of (!od.

"'8. It would gi\e a specific and distinct
place, in the Church festivals or anniversaries,
to th' ".ibject of the duty of caring for the
afHiclon and distressed, which our Lonl so earn-
estly and lovingly inculcated as a service unto
Himself. For the King shall say unto them —
" Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the
least of these My brethren, ye have done it
unto Me. '* ' ___._ ,_•__ - ...^■,.-. ':..,;

"After the paper was read a vote of thanks
to the author of tho paper was passed on motion
of Rev. D. J. Macdonnell.

to for nirld
I It would
(copo to the

1 \VO\llll tl'llll

tiro coinir..!-
xcritt) it» in-
I ill tlio tiolil
iiiiliiu, iiiiglit

NnAY.

tiion of Dr.

iiiiiu'i/,0 Honio
I of Hospital

■>{ concentr ■

»of tliiH i'it\
V liefoio felt,
of (,'iiriHti.iii
e in iioeil for

B entire com-
yoiir, a sense
) those of our
leuilent upon

'y-

lusing among
nmtion in re-
lenevolent in-
usiro to know
lly known at

liffnsed, with
locoinpany it,
ng a desire to

such eircum-

evil eft'ects of

it rid of the

report of tho

es points out,

to get rid of

larity. The

thought and

,nd then gives

tho arduous
lulies (though

ty), on whom
ouraging task

liHc attention
less favored

of a common
ulp and minis-

nowledge the

and distinct
anniversaries,
luiiig for tlio

Lord so earn-
, service unto

unto them —
iitd one of the

lave done i''.

I'ote of thanks
ised on motion

OTHER rvINDRKD AND DKSIRAHLK OIUKCTS.

219

"Rescue the Perishing."

One other pressing duty which devolves \ipon
iIk^ (Miristian people of Toronto, hut which can
I);.' lictter undertaken l>y acoinniitteo of carneBt
ladii^s, is that of assiduously looking after tho
young girls that como to tho city. So m'lny
terrihly sad cases of the fall, degradation and
remorse of these terrihly wronged and inexpe-
rienced girls are from time to time rec^orded in
tho daily pa]i(!rs that their recital causes a shud-
der to the reader, anil an anxious desire that
somo organized system should he ado[)ted to
rescue these innocent, unsuspecting victims
from the wicked wiles of their dostroyers.
Much has been done and is doing, but it seems
ined'ectivo to meet tho necessities of the case.
One case is cited as a typical one. It is given
below from the Toronto Mai/ of the (tth of July,
1888. A reporter had just encountered a tramp,
and, as ho says, —

" Was ilebating with himself tho advisability
of following and aildressing the stranger, when
tho wreck of what once iiad been a woman
stepjied out of a neighboring house an<l hurricil
up the street. Her clothing was of the tinsel
type, but was sadly tho worse for tho wear. A
scarlet shawl covered her head, and a ])air of
slippers her well-shapod foot. Dissipation had
left its trace on what had been a beautiful face
at one time, but now bore the unmistakable
stamp of tho outcast from society. She glanced
at the reporter, who was speaking to a police-
man, as she hurried by, and her eye still re-
tained something of tho light and life of hapjiier
days.

" ' Do you know her?' queried the oflficer.

" ' No,' was tho reply, ' since I gave up police
work I have lost track of these women.'

" ' I knew that girl in London four years
ago,' said tho otKcer; ' but of course she doesn't
know me. Her parents were most respectable
people, and her ruin caused her mother's ileath
just as sure as you are standing there. The
poor woman was never herself after Maggie left
home. The mother dragged along for a couple
of years and then died. After her mother's
death tho girl went down hill at a gallop, and
is now living with a mau who treats her some-

thing as Buckley did that pour girl of hiu a few
weeks ago. A few months ago she tried to
poison herself. It is too bad, for she was a
magniticent girl, and was educateil in a convent. '
" Ten minutes later the girl returned, but on
the other side of the street. On the same sido,
but going north, were a couple of girls in the
blue g 'Wns of tho .Salvationists. As they walked
along they sung —

"' Hifle me, my Saviour, hide . .

Till tho stonns of life be past,
Safe into tho haven guide.
Oh, receive my soul at last.'

"Tht^y met the girl and spoke to her. What
they said could not bo heard, i)Ut they evidently
dill not make much impression upon her, for
with a poor attempt at a laugh she started down
the street again. The Salvationists tur:ied and
accompanied her to her door. There, it ap
peared, a j)arley was held, for after a minute or
so tho three •••itered the house. Whether or
not tho words of the good-meaning girls had
any ed'ect upon )ier cannot be said, out it is
more than probable that the seed fell on stony
ground. "

Oh, Speak to Her Gently,

For, worse than a murder,

By far, was her fj^ll!
'Twore better, far better,

For her and for all.
If o'er her, while sinless,

Were spread the dark pall.

■ Her heart was once gentle.

And lovingly true—
The joy of the many,

The hope of the few ;
With smiles and curessings,

Reproach she ne'er knew.

Oh, hea;p not her sorrow,
n'ho pride yourselves so

On braving temptations
You ne^er could know;

If mercy has saved you.
Add not to her woe 1

220

TIIK TOUONTO HUMANE SOCIKTY.

INDEX.

Pieeei markfti with aii utlrritk {') art from CuiiaUian tvurcet.

y.
J

I'A'IK

A rhlld'H klHs Hct on tliy hIkIiIiik Mih hIiuII mnki' llico (find IK)

Ai'l, Diiiiiliii iinijiincd, iiKiiliiHt iTiiclly In lUiiiiiiilH \ilam Bruifu, il.l'. 30

AilainH,.liihiiQiiiii('.v.oirri'l of IiIh iiiulliur'Hfarly loachliiKoii ll!l

All, iiKi! Ihi'siMorrlbk' LoiiBuusuruura .. 90

"Air Kiiiiil, Kri'Hli TuriDito hWiiinii .Vci/*, anti Tflegrn VM\

•Alaifii bird, llio fl»i(iV/i .Imi'i/cHd llemkr 48

Aliinc ill Mil- lilK clly The Qnirer 07

Aiiiliiiliiniu for (liHiilik'd nnlnmlii 2J)

AiiH'i'lcii, Himlli, IrculiiicMl of horscH In Lady nramey 158

AiiccilolcM, apiicalH ami siikkchIIoiis about liofsc'8 ij4

Animal HiilI'iu-iiiK <aii.-ic(i by imioraiujo 13, 20

Trl<'(j;ni|iliy I" "U»' aiiolJuif Dr. flenriie Wihon 47

AniiiialH, 1)111 Id proli'ct, in U.H, ilouHuof UoprvHontatlvus. . Mr. Vutliiia ! ?o

KlIV^cl. (if iiiumIi! on IHau/ord fi,i,

llliiHli'allvo BtorlcH of various 177

l.ontfiHily of 47

Mortality of IranMportcMl 0. T. Anyell ;«

Natural fliaractcriHtlcH of 44

lt('i'i|ii'oralc our kimlm!M«/ do Mm. Marion Clement 184

f-'alu of deatl and diHiMi.Hcd ;13

Hciiintocoriiii nearer Ionian as liuniauu work advances I'ruf. Swing <'!

SutUirf do : ;a)

Till) Iradus of 10

Wby in it dortlrii.blo to ti'arli kindness towards dumb, O. T. Anyell 18t

An oraiiK'e for ill lie brotlier Kill 1)0

Appeal aKainsi ernelty, an -U. /•'. Tupper 13

•For t;(iieroiis lieiii from Toronto citizens The tutiliir VSi

Aiiplcs and peaches fail, tlio reason why IH)

Arab, reciprocal atrection of iiorse and Lnmnrline \^

To his horse, the Iliiiiaid Tii'jlor ,, 'H)

Arab's farewell to bis horse, the lion. Mm. A'orton 187

Treat nu^nt of bis horse, tbo 19, 157, loS

A slnKlo word is a little thins; !)2

Atri, the bell of «... Lnnrifetlow '.'4

•At the corner of tbo street II. t-l. Q. Cayley, in the Vartity Book 1,S0

Audubon, John .1., at Niagara Falls 210

Society and its work 41

Australia, protection of birds in 67, 58

Unby's confession, dear little Sunday Magazine 214

*l!ailingof bulls, bears, etc., ii" the Dominion, to bo forbidden 39

Hands of Mercy, aim ani^ lot of Mr». Sehaffter 201

Hoys Mrs. Kaal burn 143

rormat.ion of 200,201

How to organize Mm '•ehaffter 201

In England Itev. Mr. Tinnninn 202

Kosults of J. M. Ii., in Sehooland Home 143

Should be organized in all schools Leonard It. Eaton 200

nattlefleld, fatal reinforeeinents on tlio unseen '.Hi

There is an unseen M

Hay Hilly, our leader Frank II. Gamaway lol)

Heautiful Heck, cat<^liing Marion Douijlami 28

Heaver, Canadian, as an arohitoct and builder. 47

Hcef consumed in United States untit forfood, niuchof the. Kduin Lee llrown 35

Hell of Atri, the Long/ellow , 24

Hells of mercy, ring the 26

Heu Huzzard's guests Anna P. Marihall 108

222

THE TORONTO HUxMANE SOCIETY.

Paob

Bcrgh, Mr. Henry, and his work Boston Transcript 13

Horlin, killing animals for food in Corre>i>ondent of Nexc York Tribune 209

Hiddlo, Miss Adolo, oxlraci,3 from reports furnished by 212

Hilly, you will try, won't you? Aunt Amelia 108

Bird adornment, of "..anncts, the Queen against Xe.w York Mail and Express 82

And the qu.vlrupod, the Jules Michelet 49

ATI old woman saved by a 186

Child saved by a Sunlight 145

Life— incidents and stories 145

Nesting, cruelty of 63

Shall 1 lot the caged, free? Sarah Orne Jewell 155

Shooting matches • 54

•Shooting, prevenc indiscriminate liev. Dr. TiW 10

*Tho alarm llrilisU American Reader 48

Tl'O widowed Mrs. J. V. 11. Koons 65

Birds a farmer's sine qua non 68

•An fvlmost human appeal by Montreal Herald 146

And animals, Hiawatha with Longfclloxi} gs

And animals, notes an 1 play of 154

As a decoration for bonnets Punch 61

' - Boys, spare the 56

Chinese pyt Lady Brassey 155

Destruction of, forbidden in Germany 52

Don't kill the pretty W. H. Gibson 66

Don't let your cat kill the 53

Effect of domestic jars on sensitive G. T. Angell 53

General Spinnei''s plea for the 67

In Australia, school-boys and 57

• : *Inscct food of Canadian Canadian Ornithologist 48

Of Killingworlh, farmers killing the LimijfcHow > 59

Ofp'issnge Mrs. Ileniaiis ,. !56

•Promiscuous sliooting of Rer. JJr. Wild 51

Sea, and water-fowl, a p!ca for R.Wilton 65

Sha-wonda-sc and the wood Longfellow 08

•Shooting little, for fiiu Toro>'''> Globe 79

The calls and notes of Jihn Burroughs 153

The frightened 63

The great utility of, to agriculture 67

Tlic snow, and birds in tlio snow 49

The voices and songs of Chateaubriand 152

*vs. the weevil and caterpillar Mr. Rimmell 57

"Wanton destruction of 10, 50, 52, 58

Wonderful consumption of insects by Baron Von Tchudi 60

Bird's i)itiful bereavement, the Mrs. C. h. Fairchild 07

Song, the boy disarmed by a 07

Bi'ds' eni'mies very numerous Rev. Dr. Talmage 54

Way to sing, the helen Uunt 140

Bits, burr, the torture of 18

Cold, should neviT be put into a horse's mouth Kentucky Live Stock Record 205

Blinds, or blinlcers, evil of 19

Bluebird, the coming of the Wilso7i's Ornithology 151

The, the herald of spring John Burroughs , 150

Boatswain, to, a Newfoundland dog (tribute and epitaph) . Loi-d Huron 71

15ob While H alter B. Savanj 150

Bonnet adornment, the satirical side of 62

Hird-trnll'.c, o.Ktcnt of Science 02

Bonnets, bird adornment of, the Queen against A co i ork Mail and Express 62

•Boys, A Lover of, on "Forms of cruelty" . .. Toronto Globe 79

•And girls selling papers on the streets, evil oirocts of. W. II. Uowland 135

And the bii-d's nest, the 66

Cruelty to dogs by, kinds of 73

My last glass William Collins 133

With catapults 51

Boy who was a good shot, the Mr. KirkUmd, in St. Nicholas 55

*Sad case of a, driven from homo by drunken parents Beverley Jones 84

Bread upon the waters cast shall bo gathered at the lost 87

Broken down by ban' usiigo 19

'Urolher J'lfk and Brother Jim, poor /'. A. D 105

•Brothers, our dumb Agnes Maule Machar 197

P*OB

209

212

108

, 49

186

145

155

116

154

155

196

153

152

10, 50, 52, 68

. ... 146

205

151

150

135

133

5.i

105

107

INDEX. 223

Paob

Brutftl'zlng exhibitions, supprossion of Sev Dr. Wild 10

Uull-ilglil iiiK in Mexico to bo suppressed lloKton Herald 43

I'rohibited at tlio E.xposit'on at New Orleans (J. T. Amjell 43

nuttcrllies, diiidron killing , O. T. Amjell 77

Uutterfly, do not destroy that beauteous N. T. Carrington 76

Calis and notes of birds, tlio

Call them in— the poor, tlie wretched

■Catapults, by-law against, in Toronto

Cat, don't let your, kill the birds

The, and the looking-glass

The homeless, and the schoolboy

Two l)ravo KiikUsIi youths prevent cruelty to a

•Caterpillar an(! ■eevil^birds tx. the

Cats, humane killing of

Cattle as food, transported

Cars— discussii n an-', conclusion

Dishorning, for i,ransi)ort

-■_ _ *I)ishornip^, punishable in England

Inhu.nanily in loiuling

'Market, the Toronto

Mortality of transported

•On shipboard, hard treatment of

Ranch, freeze arid starve to death in 1.1 . ntana

Sale of dead and diseased

Sheep, etc., transportation of .•

TratHc, extent of the

•Central Prison and .Tail Missions, Toronto, experience in...
Clianning, Kev. Dr., lifelong tenderness of, to all creatures.

Charity, ev'cry good m^, is

Cheok-rein, the cruel

Chi-bi-a-bos, the singing of

Chicago, cruel manner of loading cattle at

•Children, cry of the helpless

Deal leniently witli little

•Defenceless, protection of

Education of, respecting home and parents

Forms of cruelty to

•'low, get their start in crime

Humane instruction of, a mother's

Incipient forms of cruelty in

Killing butterflies

Prevention of cruelty to, by Humane Societies

Sad state of unpr:)tected

•Started in crime, ditHculty in dealing with

•Temjiorary refuge for neglected, in Toronto

The critical age of

The rights of

What do the, read?

Children's kindness to sliecp on a cattle-train

Cuild saved by a bird

The policeman and the lost

When old 'jnough to l-'arn of mercy

Child's silent sermon, tho little

Chinese pet l)irds ,

Christmas nnt hracite, tlio

•Merry, merry, everywhere

.• .. . Outside the bars

Samaritan, tho

Story, " Inasmuch "

Story, tlie roundsman's

Waifs and their

•Cl.iirch of Kngland Temperance Society formed

Clipping a hor.se's coat

■^'o cutting or, of dogs

.Cock-sparrow i who killed

Cor essioii, dear little baby's

Conscience, or tlie voice of God

Corliss, tho famous engino builder, and tho robin's nost.. ..

John BurruKjht 15.'i

It. J. Proctor 177

: 179

G. T.AiKjM 179

Mr. llimmell 57

'. 213

American Marhetmnn 35, 209

American Uuinane Ansociation 39

Illinois Stale Veterinarian 33

Toronto Empire 3,'!

Mr. Littl.'.andMr. jngell 33

J. J. Kelso 38

G. T. Amjell 33

Toronto World 38

a. T. Amjell 33

The Editor 119

142

J. II. M., in School and Home 143

16,29

Lomjfelloio (j9

G. T. Anr/ell and Chicatjo Stock licporter. . .34, 38

Miss Annie liiith well 82

Vermont School Journal lyi

liel Thistlethuaite in Toronto Globe 201

Eraslus Burnham 191

Ohio Humane Society's Ileport 86

Toronto World 87

llennj lirnjU 189

llenrtj lUryh 7<J

G. T. A mjdl 77

Harper's Bazar igg

Frank II. Fay i:i<)

The Kdilor 8,s

J. J. KeUo 13S

Lord Shaftesbury 87

Herbert Spencer 87

191

Miss L. M. Alcott loe

Snt.light 1, j

129

Mrs. Schaffter 79

Buriimjton Hawkeye lyij

Lady Brassey 155

vn;

Delia Roycrs 122

ir. M., an inmate nf Sing Sing 124

London Society 1 2:i

Wallace Bruce 12:,

124

Erangelical Churchman i;jt

Henry Bergh 22

Punch 5j

Sunday Magazine 914

Parker 19,5

Boston ' ' nacript 197

224

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY.

Paob

Cossack, devotion of the, for his horse Lord Byron 158

Cows, poisoned milk of frlKhtened Our Dumb A inmals and 0. T. Angell 210

Creatures, the plea of the suiruring Mary 'lowitt 30

What, are generally ill-treated 29

Cricket, the grasshopper and the iciyA Hunt 181

Crow's value to the farmer, the T. M. Brewer 57

Cruoll y, an appeal against M. F. Tupper 13

And neglect, cU'ect on cattle of Chicago Stock l{6porter 38

Cur(!d by an act of cruelty Illinois Humane Society'! Report 32

Definition of 12

•Dominion Act, proposed, against Adam Brown, M.P 3!)

Drunken, no law to punish 32

•Forms of A Lover of Boys, in tlm Toronto Globe 79

Forms of, to children 0/a'o Humane Society's Jtepurt 80

Incipient forms of, in children Henry Benjh 79

In g(ineral, practical reflections on G. IK. Curtis 32

In stock-yards, steps to prevent 37

Man's, to creatures subject to hin> Rev. Ihr. Chalmers 31

Miscellaneous cases of 77

Motive for Massachusetts S. P.C. A. publication 12

Of half killing toads 77

To a horse, unconscious Chicago Herald 29

To animals generally 29

To dogs, kinds of, by boys 73

To dogs punished in Norway ^ 72

To horses 15

To horses in South America Lac. a 159

Tom's, and its repayment Barr 31

What is not Mansnchusctts S. J'. C. A. publicntlon 12

What is wanton Massachusetts S P C. A. publication 12

Dandy Jack, the pony 27

Dead and alone! found 107

•Depravity in London, Kngland Cardinal Manninn, in Catholic Review 128

Dicky Bird Society in England 42

Discharged, did you say. Mister Judge? 88

Diseased animals sold for food 33, 35, 209

Dishorning cattle a barbarous cruelty America- ^ Humane Association 39

Effect of, on milch cows 3;{

For trapsport 33

•Punish iblcin England Toronto Empire Wi

Divine warrant for protecting the helpless Canon Liddon 8.5

Docking of horses' tails 21

Dog, Ih-other Prince, the fireman's Johnnnot 169

Devotion of the— incidents and storirs 169

Fighting an inhuman practice G. T. Angell 71

Love nie, love my -the pathetic side 172

Loves kindness, the Murray 71

Our hero, "Tom" Constance Fcnimore V< . 170

•f^avcd by a Toronto Collie Toronto livening News 187

Saving a shipwrecked crew, a 16P

•The, and his disgraced master Toronto Mad 74

The lost traveller and his Wordsuurth 73

To Uoatswain, a Newfoundland (tribute and epitaph). Lord Byron 71

To Flash, my Mrs. Browning 174

'To my faithful Bella Collie 72

•When tlie old, died 'The Khan, in the Toronto Telegram 177

Do good, and leave behind you a monureiont, etc 93

Dogs and their treatment 70

A pecndiar characteristic of Britikh Workman 74

Capturing of vagrant 212

Cruelty to, kinds of, by boys 73

Cruelty to. punished in Norway . 72

Cutt ing or clipping of , no 74

Cuvieron 70

" •Home for Toronto Henry Cawthra 213

Homes and pounds for, else where '^4

Humane care and jjainless destruction of 211

Killing disabled or diseased 210

INDEX. 225

VogB— {Continued). PAOl

•Killing, by eleotilcity Toronto World 212

Men t)« M. Blaze 74

Modes of putting, to doatli 212

Nowfoundiand, as savers of life 170

Proper treatment of 72

Tlie I'liiladeipliia system of dealing witli vagi'ant 212

Dog's extraordinary devotion, a 17;j

•Dominion Act, projiosea, against cruelty to animals Adam llroivn, M.P !8)

Donkey, Pierrot, the faithtcl Armne Uoutmye 165

Door, tlie unbolted Author of "Occupation) of a Retired Life ". . 121

Dore, John C, early humane lessons taught to 142

'Doves, the tournament- or liilling Agnet Maule Machar 52

Drink and its pad story 127

Driver, horse's petition tohia 15

Drowning fly, rescuing a 181

Tlie squin-ol, memories of 180

Dum inimals, an appeal for Good Wordg 22

•ilrothers, our Aynes Maule Machar Wl

Hero, a liev. F. M.Todd 173

'Electricity as a muauH of killing dogs Toronto World 212

'England, animal institute in London Toronto Mail 213

•Churi'h of. Temperance Society, origin of Evangelical Churchinan 134

Growth of a humane sentiment in Archdeacon Farrar 204

Iliunaiio Societies in E. L. Brown 41

Tlie humane cause in, and Franco 42

Falling leaves, kitten and the Wordncorth 178

Fanners killing the birds of Killingworth Longfellow 59

Farmer's sine qua noii, birds a 58

Farmer, tlie crow's value to the T. M. Brewer 57

Fatal reinforcements on the unseen battlefield 96

Feet, God bless the little, that can never go astray 95

They are s.uoh tiny 94

Fire, how to remove a horse from a building on 200

Fish, humane killing of Agasaiz and Mra. V. E. White 208

Flash, my dog, to Mn: Browning 171

The llrenian's horse Will Carleton 160

•Flower Mission in Toronto The Editor 217

The beneficent 210

Flowers for poor little Joe Peleg Arkurigh' 101

Fly, rescuing a drowiihig 181

Found dead and alone! 107

Fountains, drinking 20, 207

Many, are needed Ohio Humane Society'! Jteport 207

Mrs. Nettlcton's 207

Fowl, a plea for the sea-birds and water R. Wilton 65

Fowls cruelly carried 36

Plucking, alive 35

ThoughtlcsH and cruel treatment of 37

Fr mcoscoand Rosolctta Third Irish National Reader 186

Francis, St., of Assissi, his lovo for animals and birds 142

"Fresli Air Fund, Toronto Toronto Evening News, and Telegram 136

Friend, a-faithful, true and kind T. A. K 73

"Fritz, Unser, the humane prince Toronto Empire 179

Gander pulling " down South " C. E. Cradriock {Miss Murfree) 79

Gentleness in horses, how to secure Senator Stanjord, of California 32

Germany, destruction of birds forbidden in ,52

Girl, nobody's 127

"Girlsaiid boys selling papers on the streeta, evil efecta of . W. H. Howland ' i;!5

God help the poor 13g

•Pity the wretched prisoners 0. P. B., in the Toronto Mail 120

God's creatures sul'i'jct to man, and man's cruelty towards Rev. Dr. Chalmers 31

The care of Rev. O. E. (lordon 11

.Grasshoi'lier, the, and the cricket Leigh Hunt IXL

Greyfriais' Hobby Rev. F. M. Todd 73

•*

I
I

Happy world of nature, the Archdeacon Patty fc.

226

THE TORONTO HUMANE SOCIETY,

Paoi

Hayes, President, effect on, of a single talk at school O. T. Angell 141

Heart, the loving, grows rich in giving 139

Hiawatha onil No-wa-da-ha the singer Longfellow 68

Don't shoot us Longfellow 69

Thefastingot Longfellow 69

Youthful, in th.T woodland Longfellow 68

With birds and animals Longfellow 68

Hints and ^aggeations, various, in regard to horses 205

His mother's bongs Chicago Inter-Ocean 118

*Homo for Toronto dogs Henry Cawthra 213

Horse, a mother's lesson of kindness to a 189

And Arab, reciprocal ail'ection of Lamartine 158

*Be merciful to the The Khan, in the TorotUo Telegram 27

Collars should ue kept clean 20(i

Deceiving a, when catching him Marcim Willson 28

Devotion of the Cossack for his Lord Byron VH

Illustrative facts and anecdotes concerning the 197

The Arab's farewell to his Hon. Mm. Xorton 167

The Arab to his Baiiard Taylor 20

The, Byron, and teasing Jack Lillian M. D 28

The magic of coaxing a 166

,' The shaved, loft standing uncovered in the icy blast. 0. W. CurtU 32

Unconscious cruelty to a Chicago Herald 29

•Whipping till the, was played out G. C.,inthe Toronto Globe 168

Why the Quaker bought a Eugene Sue 23

Horses, cruelty to 15

How to remove, from a building on Are 206

How to secure gentleness in Senator Stanford, of California 32

Kind treatment of, and a contrast 157

Neglect to water, do not 20,206

Proper winter covering for 205

Return for kindly treiitmcnt of 159

Should be edu(!atcd for service Oncar B. Todhunler 164

*Tho Toronto street car, humane treatment of Hon. Frank Smith 206

Uncovered in snow and rain 23

Horse's coat, clipping a Henry Bergh 22

Confidence, the way to gain a Oscar B. Todhunter 161

217

135

121

Horses' revenge for cruel treatment G. T. Angell

Tails, docking of

•Hospital Sunday in Toronto Evangelical Churchman

•Howland, Mayor, conference with The Editor

*How music called a wanderer homo Toronto A'etvs

Softly on the bruised heart 92

Humane care and painless destruction of dogs, etc 211

Cause in Kngland and France 42

Christian sentiment, growth of, in England Archdeacon Farrar 203

Killing of cats 213

Killing of fish and cattle for food 208

Literature, difTusion of Charles R. Fraser 216

Literature in our public schools Mrs. Lilly Lord Tifft 1U3

Milliner, a, and a customer Ella Wheeler "'ilcox 61

•Prince, Unscr Fritz, the Toronto Empire 179

Sentiments of people of note Ul

Societies in England E. L. Broivn 41

Societies, local, formation of 215

Societies, other 43

Societies, prevention of cruelty to children by Harper's Bazar 138

Societies, rapid increase of M. T. B. Davis 210

*So<^iety, duty of the Toronto The Editor 84

Society, extracts from report of the American parent 41

Society, extracts from report of the New York 40

•Society, functions of the Beverley Jones s 84

^ _ Society, how to organize a ' 215

•Society, legislation obtained by the Toronto The Editor

Society, summary of report of the Massachusetts

•Society, Toronto, chief and general objects of 2'he Editor ....

•Society, Toronto, undertakes to i)rotect children — Eev. Dr. Hild .

•Society, Toronto, work before the The Editor. . . .

Subjects, necessity for enliglilenment on

137
40
10
84

203
37

INDEX.

227

Paoi

.. Ul

.. 139

.. 68

.. 69

.. 68

., 205

.. 118

.. 213

.. 189

.. 158

.. 27

.. 20(.

.. 28

.. ir,8

.. lo7
.. 157
.. 20
.. 28
.. 166
.. 32
.. 29
.. 168
.. 23
,.. 15
.. 200
... 32
,.. 157
20,206
... 205
...159
... 164
... 206
... 23
... 22
... Ifil
... 27
. . . 21
... 217
... 135
... 121
... 92
... 211
... 42
...203
... 213
... 208
... 216
... 193
... 61
... 179
... 141
... 41
... 215
... 43
...138
... 216
... 84
... 41
... 40
... 84
... 215
... 137
... 40
... 10
... 84
... 203
... 37

Humane— (Continued^, Paob

Teaching undlnfluenoe, reaults of 1*1

Things to be remembered Children'! Friend 78

Work, divine warrai'' '-' Canon Liddon 85

Worlv, orgiiniziition for Oiicar li. Todhuuler 215

Humming-bird, a tamo P. U. Qosie, from The Friend 149

Brave iitllo " 149

Tlio John Burroiiyht 149

The beautiful Campbell 149

Hymn, memories awakened by a Phoebe Cary 119

I build my liouso of loving deeds 93

'If tliy brollier err, reprove liim The Khan, in the Toronto Telegram 92

Ignorance, animal sulIVring cuuaed by.. .. '. 13

I tiavo no time for my children 190

Ill-treated, what creatures are generally 29

I'll give you a chance— make the most of it— go 89

I'll help you across if you wish to go ... 100

I'll hold up my hand so Jesus can see il. L.V. W 103

I'm glad to sec you. Miss G 104

I'm hurried, child 190

I'm lostod, oh, I'm losted! Anna F. Burnhain Ill

I'm nobody's child, I 'sposo Phoebe Cary 106

Inasmuch 87

Inasmuch Wallace Bruce , 125

Infirmary tor various animals, in Philadelphia 213

Inhumanity in loading cattle 33

•Institute, animal, in London Toronto Mail 213

•Institutions, remedial, in Toronto, names and objects of . . . The Editor 139

I tum, cos I've dot a sick mamma W. U. Rose 110

It was only a blossom 93

I walked in the woodland meadows 93

•Jail and Central Prison Missions, Toronto, experience in. . . The Editor 119

Jim, the old man wrapped up In James Whitcond) Riley 100

Key, the, to others' hearts Mins Ilaecrgal 87

Killing cattle for food, humanely 209

Of cats, humane 213

Of disabled liorses and dogs, merciful 210

Of dogs by request, humane 213

Of flsh, humane Agasttiz and Mrs. C. E. White 208

Vagrant dogs, time of, in Philadelphia 213

Kindness and mercy, heroines of 199

The results of humane teaching 193

Tlio teaching of 183

Kindness, do animals recii.rocate our Mrs. Marion Clement 184

How best to inculcate G. T. Angell 187

How one benevolent woman incited others to deeds of Rev. F. M. Todd 200

; Remarkable instance of tlio power of S. 1'. Harris 162

_''•', The dog loves 71

To a horse, a mother's lesson of 189

..■ To sheep on a ciittle-train Mias L. M. Ahott 196

Towards dumb animals, why Is it desirable to teach. O. T. Angell 184

Kind words and kind deeds, value of Rev. F. W. Faber, George Eliot, Miss Uavcrgal 143

Kitten and the falling leaves Wonlsivorth 178

Rescue of • « R, C. Hitchcock 178

Kitty's fearful race tlirough th'> Chicago fl'e 102

''Lads get their start in crime, how Toronto World 87

Land birds at sea John Burroughs 151

•Legislat ion obt ained by the Toronto Humane Society The Editor 137

Lend a helping hand, my brother , 91

•Licensing of n<^ wspaper vendors J. J. Kelso 137

Lights and shadows of waif-life 90

Lillian and Gracie under tlie umbrella 195

Lincoln, I'resident, tender care of a helpless bird by Humane Journal 141

Little Brother Bill, an orango for 99

Child's silent sermon, the Burlington Hawkeye 109

Joe, flowers for poor Peleg Arkwright 101

.1'

228

THE TORONTO HUMANK SOCIKTY.

lJ.U\o— {Continued). Paoh

Ned and nio Robert Buchanan Uti

I'hll and his mother 114

Tim, alas, for liim! our Geor<ie R. Siina 101

*VVulfs Willi wondorinu cyos Delia Ru(jer» 122

Wliito lioarso, the IOC!

Local Ilunianc Societies, formation of ?15

London, depravity in Cardinal Manning, in Catholic Review 128

"Destitute waiflifc in Toronto Newi Kl

Itoyai Humane Society of 41

Waif life in Archdeacon Farrar 83

Longevity of animals 47

LocjklnB-glass, the cat and tho R A. Proctor 177

Loon, characteristics of tho John Rurroiii/ht 155

Lost lind found in t lie storm Ruse II. Thorpe 131

On tho prairie 160

Lol the seagulls slowly whirling over all tho silver sea Punch 61

Love nie, love my dog— tlie pathetic side 172

Loving deeds, reward for 198

Heart, the, grows rich In giving 13t)

Magic, the, of coaxing a horse 16<i

•Maiden, a, and tho hirds— a contrast Agne» ilaule Machar 195

Maplesou's, Maria lloze, visit to Auburn Prison 119

Margaret, Our, monument to, in New Orleans A'ew Orleans Pieai/une and the Editor 199

Maud S Wallace's Monthtu 18, 162

Me and Hob and Jim Ada Stewart Shelton 112

Memories awakened by a hymn Phoebe Cary 119

•Awakened in Toronto Jail and Central Prison The Editor 119

Of other and better days 119

Uevi val of touching, in prison 119

•Memory of a song, tho O. S. II., in Canadian Monthly Ill

Men vs. dogs M. Blaze 74

Merciful killing of disabled horses and dugs 210

Mercy, Band of, pledge 201

Uiinds of, examples of thnir teaching Mrs. Eastburn and J. M. II. 143

Formation of Hands of 200,201

Heroines of kindness and 199

llow to organize a Hand of Mrs. Schaffter 201

Milch cows, ctfect of dishorning on 33

Milk, poisoned, of frightened cows Our Dumb Animals 210

Milliner, a humane, and a customer Ella Wheeler Wilcox 61

Minister, Pontoand tho J. E. M. Wright 174

"Minstrel's mother's home, the old A'ew Brunswick Paper 117

Minutest of the feathered kind 150

Miscellaneous objects to be accomplished 203

Things to be done 204

Miss G , J n» glad to see you 104

Montana, cattle allowed to freeze and starve to death in 30

Mosaic laws, the humane 10, 85

Motherless! Detroit Free Press 117

Motherly care, beautiful instance of 147

Mother's early inliucnce, examples of a 113

Lesson of kindness to a horae, a 189

Songs, his Chicago Inter-Ocean 118

Mothers, some waifs and t'.icir 113

•>!other, terrible surprise of a Ecangelical Churchman 134

•Mowat, Hon. Oliver, humane legislation etTected by The Editor 40, 84, 137

•Music called a wanderer home, how Toronto News 121

Htlcct of, on animals 45

My last glass, boys William Collins 133

*PaperswiU you buy, sir '... II. St. Q. Caijlcy 130

•Names and objects of remedial institutions In Toronto The Editor 139

Natural characteristics of aninmls ... 44

History facts, interesting 44

•Neglected children, temporary refuge for destitute and .... J- J. Kelso 138

Opportunity to do good, tho Martiarct F. Songster 95

Nest, Corliss, t he famous engine builder, and the robin's. . . Boston Transcript 197

lulling, bird-nesting and 63

INDEX.

229

Scat— (Contin u -d).

The boys unil tho blrd'if

Tlio (liviiio law and tho bird's Deut. xxii. 6, 7.

Tlic nli^htiiiKnlx'a hidden John Clare.

Paqr
.. 00

.. on

.. 07

Tlio ovurlunied 05

Tilt) rilliid Frmn th : Spunith 03

NnstliiK, bird «a

Nottlolon's foiintnin, Mrs OAio Uumatui Society's Heport 207

New kiiigdom, I ho, called homo 103

•Newsboy, Ihc-only an n ont 0. S. II., in Canadian Monthly 129

'Newspapers, t'vll cffoctfi i. oys and glrla of selling W. II. llowland 1.T5

•Newspaper vcndor.-t, lieensinnof J. J. Kelso 137

Nightingale, Florence, and her noble work Lonn/elloiu 199

Nightingale's hidden nest, the John Clare 07

Nobody's boy ( Yea, a sinner's, no doubt 107

Girl 127

Notes and play of birds and animals 154

•Objoets, chief, of tho Toronto Humane Society The Editor 10

♦General, of the Toronto Humane Society /?''». I>r. Wild 10

Of Hands of Mercy Mrs. Schafter 201

Old Dandle and Hal and Fred and I St. Nicholas 172

"Dog died, when tho The Khan, in the Toronto Telegram 173

Man, the, wrapped up in Jim James ^'■'hitcomb lliley 100

Robin? sell-No, never! J. T. Trowbridge 100

Woman, an, saved by a bird 186

•Only an accident— the newsboy 0. S. 11., in Canadian Monthly 129

Remembered by what I have done Rev. Dr. lloratius Bonar 01

ilrganization for humane work Oscar B. Todhunter 215

Organize a Hand of Mercy, how to Mrs. Schaffter 201

A Humane Society, how to 215

"Origin and objects of the Toronto Humane Society The Editor 9

■Orphans' Homo, Toronto, gorm of the Mrs. Charlotte E. Leigh 108

Overloading of carts and waggons 15

I'ain felt by tho lowest organisms Youth's Companion 31.

I'aloy, Archdeacon, on the happy world of nature 43

Parents, and tho rights of children Herbert Spencer 87

Counsel to, on humane education 189

Forms of criiolty to children '" ■ Ohio Humane Society's Report 86

Grave responsibility of Erastus Durnhpin 191

Paul's temptation, and its consequences M. de Fontaubert 132

"Penitentiary, Kingston, admission to . Dr. M. Lavell 204

Performance, a sad yet toucliing Cornhill Magazine 75

"Perishing, rescue tho Toronto Mail 219

Pet Birds, Chinese Lady limme.g 155

Pets, little Gustava and her Celia Thaxtcr 179

Poweo's answer, tho J. T. Trowbridge 150

Pewee, the life and love of the James Russell Lowell 150

Philadelphia system, tho, of dealing with vagrant dogs 211

Pierrot, tho faithful donkey Arsene Uoiissaye 165

Pigeons, shooting, for sport 29, 54

PIcaso, sir, will you lift me up a bit ? Susan Teall Perry 110

Plea, the, of the suflTering creatures Mary Howitt 30

Policeman, the, and tho lost child 129

Pontoand the minister J. E. M. Wright 174

•Poor brother Jack and brother Jim f. M. D 105

God help the 138

Pound and shelter, dogs in the city, Philadelphia 213

Prairlo, lost on tho 100

Prince, Brother, tho fireman's dog Johonnot 109

•Unsor Fritz, the humane Toronto Empire 179

"Prison, Central, and Jail Missions, experience 'n The Editor 119

Picture, a touching Cleveland Voice 120

Revival of touching memories In 119

•Prisonera, God pity the wretched 0. B. P., intne Toronto Mail 120

•Protection of dofenooless children Bel Thistlethwaite, in the Toronto Globe 2M

Pussy, rescuers of Mrs. Fairchild, R. Hitchcock, and Mr. Angell i78

Quaker, why tho, bought a horso Eugene Sue .

mtsm

230

THE TORONTO HUMANK SOCIETY.

Queen, the, ajjalnHt lilnl ailnniiiu'nt of Ijonnets Londoi^ Truth 02

The, on the claiina on cl vilizutlon of dumb crcuturos 1 1 1

RiuM, a fearful, through the ChirnRO flro 1C2

Itauiubai, PutxliUi, on bonnet dft'oratlcn with birds 67

Itociprooal affection of lior. a and Arab Lamartint i:t8

ItefuKt' for lost and suflerintf animals 213

•Temporary, for destit ut(^ and iicj,'l<!cted children J. J. Kelio 138

RcfiiKca for children, economy, in the public interest, of , .. llnrper'n Mzar 138

•llemedlal inatitutions in Toronto, names and objects of The Kdilor 13!)

llescuers of pussy Mra. Fa irehild. It. Hitchcock, and Mr. A wjcH 1 "S

•Hesctie the perishing Toronto Mail '.'ID

Uesponsibility, the feeling of, in humane work IM

lie ward tor loving de(Mls 1(18

llights of animals recognized by old Colonial law 12

Of (diildren, the Herbert Spencer 87

•Robbie, taste not, toticli not drink Anvil, in the Toronto Tclei/ram 132

Robin, beautiful instance of motherly care by a 147

Orandmother's myth of the J. Greenleaf Whiltier 148

Sell Old— no, never! J. T. Tmwhridije im

Robins, kindness to a household of Janieg lltmnell Ijowell 1,54

Our, are baok— but alas! lllinnin Uumnne Society's Report 65

•Slaughter of the London (Ontario) Free Prem 61

Robin's nest, Corliss, the famous engine builder, and the. .. llostun Traniieript 197

•Rose for his father's cofUn, a The Khan, in the Toronto Telegram Ihi

Rosolctta and Francesco Tl id Hook of the Irith Xational Headers ... 18fi

Roundsman's Christmas story, the 124

Sad yot touching perfomianco, a Cnrnhtll Martazine 75

Samaritan, the Christmas London Society 123

Schoolboy, the homeless cat and the 179

Schoolmaster, the, as a teacher of humanity Henri/ Hergh, 0. T. Angell and U. Bettison.. li!i

Schools, humane literature in our public Mrs. Lilly Lord Tifft 193

Scott's, Sir Welter, love of dogs The Humane World 143

Selling violets Jlobert Richardson 108

Sell Old Robin?— no. never! J.T. Trowbridge 100

Sermon, the little child's silent Burlington Hawkeye 109

Shaftesbury, Lord, on the critical age of children 87

Prizes by, for-bost essay on kindness to animals E.L.Brown 42

She covered him over, dear lost Will ] W

Sheep on a cattle-train, kindness to Miss M. L. Alcott 196

Swine, etc, transportation of 35

Sheltered, the, and the unsheltered Edna P. Proctor lOU

Shooting-matches, pigeon, prohibited in England Princess of Wales 54

Of birds 10,41,51,52,64,59,61

Shot, the boy who was a good , Mr. Kirkland, in St. Xicholas 65

Skylark's wonderful song, the John Burroughs and Rev. J. G. Wood 154

Snow and rain, horses uncovered in 23

Birds, the, and birds in the snow 49

•Solution of some sad social problems The Editor 135

•Song, the memory of a G. H. S.,in Canadian Monthly Ill

Sow ye beside all waters Aniia Shipton 86

Spider, the fairy nets of the John Burroughs 181

Spinner's, General, plea for the M.ils 07

S(iuirrel, memories of drowni-ig the 180

•Squirrels in the I torticultur ll Gardens, Toronto The Editor 181

The frolic and chatter of John Burroughs 180

Stay and support of the family Henry Bergh 29

.Stephens, Hon. A. 11., affected by the sight of dead birds 142

Stephenson's, George, tenderness towards birds Manchester Times 113

Stock-yards, steps to prevent cruelty in 37

SutFering creatures, the plea of the Mary Hoieitt ,30

"Sunday, hospital, In Toronto Evangelical Churchman 217

Susan and Jim and I , 65

Swallow, or swift, the chimney ,58

Sweetest, sweet, oh, sweet Florence Percy 146

Swine, etc., transportation of sheep 35

Tails, docking of horses' 0. W. Curti$ 21,32

Pjiok

141

102

138

213

138

139

'r. Aixjell 178

210

198

132

147

148

100

154

197

115

caden ... 186

123

179

Vettison.. 192

193

143

108

ioo

109

104

196

109

52, 54, 59, 01

od 154

135

Ill

181

180

181

180

142

143

.SO

217

140

... 21,32

iNDEX. 231

Paoi

TeochcrH, imporlancn of liiiinuno cducntion by ■ 102

TbachliiK luid liifluniice, rosiiltH of hiimiiiio 141

KiiidiK'HHiiiKl inorcy tho rusullsof htiinano 103

Of kliidnuHH and iiiorcy 183

Tnletfnipliy, aniiiml, to ono anolhor Dr. Oeorgs Wilton 47

■'reinporiv. y rt.'f um' for d(,'nt lluto unci neglected children J. J. Kelto isg

•Terrible surprise of 11 mother Hvangelical Churchman 134

Terrier's blK friend, the 17'j

There Is iin imseen bat tleflcld In very human breast 03

There lies In the centre of ouch man's heart Jilla Wheeler Wilcox 102

They are such tiny feet! 94

•Tliintfs to be taken Intonceount The Editor 9,5

Tim, our lltlli!, alas, for 1dm! Oeorge J{. Sirnt 101

Toads, cruelly ot half killing 77

•Proposed protection of. In Ontario John Leyi, M.P.P 77

Value of. In Kai-dc^ns 78

Toad, tho Duke of WelliuKton's caro for a 77

Tlu! honest old 77

•Toronto cattle market , tho J. J. Kelso 38

*{'lty Council, extracts from proceed Inps of 9, 20, 207

•Humane Society, conference of, with Mayor Howland The Editor 135

•Huniaiu) Society, duties of tho The Editor g4

•Humane Society, legislation obtained by tho The Editor 137

' •Huinane Society, origin and ol),iocts of tho The Editor

•Humane Society, work before tho The Editor 205

•Newsboy, song of a 97

•Preventive and remedial Institutions in The Editor 130

•TournauHUit, the -or killing doves Ariiieii ilaule Machur 62

Tramp, the dead, and a tiny shoe A'eto York World 107

Transportation, amelioration in cattlo 37

Of cattle, sheep, swino, etc 33, 35

Transport, dishorning cattlo for 33

Ti'avoller, the lost, and his dog Wordsworth 73

Unbolted door, tho Author of " Occupations 0/ a Retired Life".. 12J

Vagrant dogs, tho Philadelphia system of dealing with 212

Various hints and suggestions In regard to horses 205

•Vincent, Mrs., of Boston, Bishop Courtney on tho llfo of . . . The Editor 200

Violets, selling Hohert Itichardmm 108

Vivisection, the barbarity of Dr. W. Ji. niackirood and 0. T. Angell 38

Useless animal torture caused by Dr. Henry J. Bigclow 39

■Waif -llfo in London Archdeacon Farrar 83

In London, destitute Dr. Barnardo 81

Some lights and shadows of IX)

■Waifs and strays, the— others telling their story 102

The, tolling their own story 97

■Waifs and their Christmas 122

•Little, with wondering eyes : Delia Rogers 122

Some, and t heir faithful mothers 113

Wanderer's prayer, the 115

Weevil and caterpillar, birds vs. the 67

What do the children reud ? 101

When Old .lack died JamfsWhitcomb Uilcy 70

•The old dog died The Khan, in the Toronto Telegram 173

You see a ragged urchin 92

Where Is your boy tonight? 136

• Whipping till the horse was played out ! G.C.,inthe Toronto Glole 100

White, Ah Bob Walter B. Samry 150

Who be ye? Wan uv the Humane S'i'ty J Chicago Daily News 107

AVoman, an old, saved by a bird 186

Woodcock's care for its young, tho 148

Work, tl'e feeling of responsibility inhumane 94

AVorship God by doing good 93

Wrapped up in Jim, tho old man James Whitcomb Riley 100

Yes, guilty— but Bcntence deferred 89

Yo who think the truth ye BOW Fritz artd LeoletU 10