meanwhile.

And when his shrill brief song is done,
He plucks the hat from his curly head,
And begs a penny from every one,
Though not a word is said.

Just fit for a mother's arms to fold,
Yet here alone in the heat and dust,
Doing his poor, tired, baby best
To earn for himself a crust.

He looks like Teddy, for all the world;
Just such a tanned and rosy skin;
Only he lacks the apple cheeks,
The dimples, and double-chin.

And I think if Teddy were motherless,
And had to wander from place to place,
How quickly the twinkle would leave his eye,
And the dimples leave his face.

So, Teddy, open the little bank,
And give him the pennies kept for toys,
And under my window let me see
Two little nut-brown boys!

THE CATBIRD.

The catbird belongs to the family of thrushes, and is one of the most peculiar of our American birds. It is dark colored, with brown head and neck, and greenish-black tail. The bird is fond of society, and usually builds its nest near the dwellings of men, rather than in the quiet of the forest.

Its voice, when angry or disturbed, is harsh and shrill, but at other times, soft and sweet. It has also a cry like the mewing of a cat, from which it derives its name. It is very courageous, and will defend its young until it falls exhausted.

The catbird can be tamed, but is as mischievous as a young monkey,—meddlesome, full of curiosity, and so jealous, that it will drive any other pet bird out of the house. It dislikes to be caged, preferring the freedom of the room, so that it may look in the looking-glass, take pins off from the cushion, or perch on the plants in the window.

HOW TO DRAW A CAT

PLAYING COOK.

Jenny was at her little table, making a pudding for her doll's dinner, when brother Albert came in with Snap the dog, and said, "Let me be the cook, sister: I know how to make a pudding. First I will break these three eggs into the dish."

"But I can see no eggs," said Jenny.

"Look sharp," said Albert, going through the motion of breaking an egg. "Good and fresh."

"I see no eggs," said Jenny.

"You must be losing your eyesight," said the cook, taking a spoon. "Now, then, I will stir up the eggs; and now I will put in a little flour; and now I will grate in some nutmeg."

"I think you had better put in some milk," said Jenny.

"Of course, I shall," replied the cook. "Where's the basin of milk?"

"You will find it on the floor," said Jenny.

Albert looked, and cried out, "Go away, Snap!—See, Jenny, that greedy dog has lapped up all the milk!"

"No matter," said Jenny. "You can get some more where you got the eggs."

So Albert seized the little pitcher, went through the motion of emptying it, stirred the pudding once more, and then placed it on the little doll-stove.

"Oh, what a fine cook you are!" said Jenny. "But, when I am very hungry, I think I shall not come to you for my dinner."

HOW A BOY CAUGHT A FISH WITH HIS NOSE.

A few years ago, a little boy was out fishing with his mother, on Crooked Lake, in the western part of New York; or perhaps I should say, she was fishing, and he was looking over the side of the boat. He could see the fish darting about here and there, and liked to watch them, and he put his face as close down to the water as he could to see them more plainly.

A big trout came along, and saw something smooth and round and white close to the top of the water. It was the boy's nose. The trout was hungry, and I suppose he thought it was a piece of meat, or something else good to eat: so he gave a spring out of the lake, and caught fast hold of it with his teeth.

Very much startled, the boy jerked his head back suddenly, and landed Mr. Trout in the boat. He was a fine large fellow, and weighed several pounds. I hope he did not bite off the end of the boy's nose. I wonder if the boy would like to try to catch another trout in the same way.

Everybody thought this so funny, that the boy became, for a while, quite famous, and had his photograph taken, with the mark of the bite on his nose. This may seem a very tough story, but it is true. The thing took place only a few miles from where I live.

AN OLD FABLE.

An ass, having put on a lion's skin, roamed about in the forest, and amused himself by frightening all the animals he met with in his wanderings. At last he met a fox, and tried to frighten him also; but the fox no sooner heard the sound of his voice than he exclaimed, "I might have been afraid, if I had not heard you bray."

This fable was written by Æsop, a famous Grecian who lived nearly three thousand years ago.

A fable is a fictitious story designed to enforce some useful lesson or moral. See if you can tell the moral of this one.

OUR FLY.

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