the children, just to show them how fond he was of them all.

Then the children all set out for Mr. Spicer's shop. There they learned that no Elfrida had been seen in the shop that afternoon. "Where can she be?" cried James, a little anxious. "Sport, where is Elfrida?"

Sport stopped his nonsense of playing with a stick, and began to look serious. Then he made a bee-line for the nearest turning on the right, on the way home. This was an old lane, on which some old gardens backed, and which led, by a little longer way, to Brook Cottage.

By the time the children had arrived at the head of the lane, Sport was seen galloping back in a state of great excitement. "Bow-wow!"—"Oh, you have found her, have you, old fellow?"—"Bow-wow!"—"Well and good! You are a jolly old Sport!"

On the step of the gate of an old garden sat Elfrida, fast asleep, with her empty basket in her lap. Emma proposed to tickle her nose with a straw. "No! I will pull that thick braid of hair," said Susan. "No! let me whisper in her ear," said James. But, before anybody did any thing, Sport settled the question by putting his paws up on her shoulders, and crying, "Bow-wow!"

Elfrida started, and looked around as if in a dream. "What does it mean? How long have I been here?" cried she. "Why did you go to sleep?" asked the two girls. "Yes, why, why, did you go to sleep?" echoed all the boys. "Oh, that's my secret," said Elfrida. "Now who can catch me in my run to Mr. Spicer's?" So off she started, followed by Sport and all the children.

"Now tell us why did you go to sleep?" said the children, as they were all on their way home, after she had made her purchases. "Will you promise not to tell anybody, if I tell you?" asked Elfrida. "We promise, we promise!" cried all the children. "Now, then, why did you go to sleep?"—"Hush! I went to sleep because—because—because I was sleepy," said Elfrida.

THE PRAIRIE-DOG

My friend John lives in Colorado, not far from Denver; and he writes me, that he and his sister, not long ago, walked out to see some prairie-dogs.

The prairie-dog is about the size of a full-grown squirrel, and of a like color. It makes a hole for itself in the ground. This hole is in the shape of a tunnel, and as large round as a man's hat.

Now, this little dog is so gentle, that he lets the owl and the rattlesnake come and live with him, if they like. All three are often found dwelling together. For my part, I should not much like such neighbors.

The prairie-dogs live on the roots of grass. Scattered all around the entrance to their homes, you may see remnants of the dry roots which they have got for food. They are quick in their movements, and quite playful.

Johnny writes me, that, when some of these little dogs saw him and his sister approaching, they sat down on their hind-legs, and began barking. Then they dropped into their holes backwards. As Johnny did not care to wake up any of the other lodgers, he and his sister went home, well content with their first sight of a prairie-dog.

STRUT

Strut was the name of a hen that lived on Father Nunn's farm, nine miles from Norwalk, Ohio.

She was very vain; that is, she had a very good opinion of herself. She always would strut when walking. Indeed, it was hard for her to pick up grains of corn as other chickens did. I think she never saw her feet in her life: certainly she never looked where she stepped.

Worse than all this, when she saw any person in the yard, instead of dodging away, as a modest hen should, she would strut right up to such a person, and look saucily in his face, as though asking, "Who are you? Where are you going? What for?"

At last, however, Strut received a severe rebuke for her evil ways. Cousin William Bird, who is soon to be a doctor, was visiting at Father Nunn's. Having occasion to climb the ladder to the barn-loft, he saw Strut on the farther side. He knew that she would come straight to him; and he also knew that she would not look where she stepped. So he held still to see what would happen; for exactly between them was an opening in the floor for throwing down hay.

Sure enough, Strut started for Cousin William, and, stepping off the edge of the hole, fell fluttering, cackling, and frightened, to the floor beneath.

She was humbled by her fall; for she never strutted again, but walked and ate afterwards like other chickens.

THE CATERPILLARS

THIRD LESSON IN ASTRONOMY

I have told you about the sun and the stars. Can you think of any thing else in the sky that you would like to know a little about? Of course, I do not mean the dark clouds, but something bright and pretty, that all children love to look at.

I think you must have guessed that I mean the moon,—the beautiful moon. Now, I want you to make another guess: Is the moon bright because it is made of fire, like the sun; or because the sun shines on it, as it does on Venus and Jupiter?

If any of you think it is made of fire, you must try to warm your little toes and fingers in the moonlight, as you do in the sunshine, and you will find out for