WALTER'S DOG.

"Mamma, why can't I have a collar for Fido, like that on Charley's dog?"—"You must wait until our ship comes in," said his mother, laughing.

Walter believed that a ship was really coming, and set to thinking of the things that he hoped it would bring him. Then he called Fido, and told him how much he wished to give him a collar.

If Fido had known how to speak, perhaps he would have said, "I don't care much about a collar: I get along just as well without it." But Fido could not speak English, though he barked smartly when Walter said, "Speak, sir."

I must tell you some of Fido's funny ways. He would sit up on his haunches, drop his fore-paws, and wait for Walter to put a piece of bread on his nose; then he would sit quite still while Walter counted, "One, two, three;" and, at the word "three," he would give his head a toss, and catch the bread in his mouth.

Fido had a great taste for music. There was one tune in particular that he was very fond of; and, when it was played on the piano, he would begin to make a whining noise, which would grow louder and louder, until it ended in sharp, quick barks, keeping time with the music. Walter called this "Fido's singing."

Fido liked dancing-tunes; but there was a friend of his, one of the neighbor's dogs, that liked only psalm-tunes. He would whine solemnly until a lively tune was struck up; when he would slink away in manifest displeasure. He would not countenance such frivolity.

So you see, dogs have their fancies as well as human beings.

THE HORSE THAT LOVES CHILDREN.

This is a picture of the horse that refuses to run over children. His name is Prince. Once his master was driving him along a narrow street, when Prince saw an infant creeping along across the street right in his way.

Prince at once slackened his speed; and though his master, who did not know that the infant lay in the way, touched him with the whip, Prince knew better than to hurt the poor little infant.

At last the good horse stopped short, and refused to move. His master got out of the buggy to see what was the matter; and there, close by the horse's fore-feet, was a baby on its knees.

Was not Prince a good, wise horse to refuse to harm the baby? Another time, when a little boy came up behind him, when the flies were pestering him, Prince, instead of kicking him, just lifted up one of his hind-feet, and pushed him gently away.

Prince is very fond of sugar; and, as his master's little girls used to feed him with it, I think that is one reason why he is so kind to all children. Whenever Prince sees these little girls, he will make a queer whinnying noise, the meaning of which is, "Oh, do give me a lump of sugar!"

In the picture, the hostler is offering Prince some oats; but Prince knows that the man has some sugar, and so he refuses the oats. He wants his sugar first.

HOW TADDY LEARNED HIS LESSON.

Taddy and his mamma had just got nicely settled, she with some sewing, and he with a little primer, out of which he was beginning to learn his lesson, when mamma was called away to see a neighbor who was sick. She only stopped to tell Taddy to study his lesson like a good boy, while she was gone. But, instead of looking on his book, the little boy, as soon as he was left alone, began to look out of the window. In an open lot behind the house he saw grown-up Jamie, who lived next door, skating on a little sheet of ice.

Taddy's eyes began to grow round. "Don't I wish I was a big boy too, so I could skate!" he said to himself.

Then he saw Jamie take off his skates, and lay them down on the ice, and go off on an errand for his mother.

All at once it popped into Tad's head to slip down the back-stairs, and out through the gate, and just see if he could not skate.

"I'm sure," said he, "it can't be so very hard: the boys do it so easy! What if I do tumble down a few times at first! I don't mind a little bump."

So he sped down the stairs, tied on his cap and scarf, tucked his mittens in his pocket, and was off for the ice.

"The skates are too long for me, but that is no matter. I know how to put them on. There! now they're on. Hurrah! here I g—! Oh!"

Down he sat, before he had hardly got upon his feet. He got a hard bump; and his bare hands rubbed upon the ice till they were so cold, that, if he hadn't made up his mind to be stout-hearted, he would have been glad to go in and warm them.

But he pulled out his mittens, saying, "I must get up slowly: that's the way the boys do." So he raised himself on his hands and knees first, planting one foot at a time firmly before trying to stand. But, as he was straightening up his back, somehow his heels slipped up; and this time it was his poor little head that rapped so smartly upon the treacherous ice.

Taddy lay still a minute, not feeling quite so hopeful about the next attempt; when he happened to see a little tree just a few steps off. So he crept quickly over to it, feeling sure now of success. Catching hold of it, he helped himself up to a firm stand, saying, "Now, I must put one foot out at a time, so,—and then the other. Oh! I can do it now."

So he tried again. One beautiful stroke, then another, and over he went again, flat on his nose! But this was not all. Such a crash as even his little body could make was too much for the ice, which happened to be rather thin around that friendly tree; and, by the time Taddy had picked himself up, he was above his knees in water. There was a terrible ache at his nose; and he put up his hand to warm it a minute, but was frightened to find his mittens all spotted with blood. This was too much for him. He sent forth a cry that would have made your heart ache.

Just then Jamie came back; and there he found poor Taddy standing in the water, holding out one hand, and looking at the bloody mitten through his tears, the other covering tightly his aching nose; while a big purple bump