forth when my mamma had a tea-party. On one occasion of this kind, I remember, he produced "an effect," as concert singers say; there were some ten or twelve ladies in the parlor, chatting away very pleasantly, keeping time with their tongues to the click of their knitting needles. Unfortunately, there had come no little girls to visit with me, and feeling quite uncomfortable, in not being capable of taking a part in such a great visit, I concluded to let Dickey have a chance in my place, which was the next best thing for me. Accordingly I left the room for a minute, and I came back lugging Dickey's cage. But when my mamma saw it, she instantly exclaimed: "Now, Carrie dear, go right back with your mischief! You know we shall not be able to hear ourselves think, if that bird stays here!" This was just what I expected, but the ladies all begged for him to remain, as I knew they would, and Dickey was accordingly placed upon the mantel-piece. Of course, it was not expected, that talkative ladies, who came together on purpose to talk, would be audience long, and Dickey had not half finished his first song before there was a little Babel of confusion in the room. The ladies raised their voices to hear each other, and Dickey raised his to hear himself. Then there would be a concession on the part of the visitors, and Dickey would seem inclined to a treaty of peace; but it would only last while respectful silence was kept; but as soon as they began their talk again, he would pipe up louder and bolder, standing with his legs and neck stretched about twice their ordinary length, while the "hush! hush!" from one and another, and the flirting of handkerchiefs at him, only served to bring out an extra trill, on a higher key, that almost made the little ruffle of feathers under his throat fly off in ecstacy. Of course every body laughed; but it would not do, and mamma threw her handkerchief over the cage, saying: "There Dickey, you've contributed your share towards the entertainment; you'd better go to sleep now, and recruit your energies for the next occasion." He chirped a few times, and hopped uneasily about his cage, and every body went on with their talking, while, keeping an eye on my pet, I saw that he was beginning to pull off the covering with his claws. He acomplished but little at first, but after working industriously for a long time, down slid the handkerchief over mamma's face, and Dickey hopping quick as a flash clear up to his highest perch, began his song again, just where he had left off. On one occasion, when Dick was out of his cage, sister Susan, who chanced to be the only person in the room, was called out. She dropped her work, a beautiful crotchet collar, nearly finished, and was gone nearly half an hour. When she came back, what should she see but Dick, industriously hopping about the room, with his mouth full of, and his legs entangled in, the crimped mass of thread which was once her collar-now and then turning up his eye, and giving a mischievous chirrup, as he made for the farthest corner of the room; at each hop going on with his ravelling. I should like to tell you a great many more of Dickey's tricks, but my story is getting too long for a paper, and I will only relate what became of him. One day I visited a playmate who had just just had a Canary given to her, and when I came home I said, "Nellie's Canary is a little milk-and-water colored thing, not half so pretty or so large as mine." I remember how our people laughed, and how I wondered what they meant by it. Soon after, we left the town for the country, where we had a yard full of shrubs and trees, where the birds came and sang every him how to lay on the little things in architectu❘ral order, till at last the nest was all plastered inside, and lined with grass, and finished up in as fine proportions as if Dickey had been a mason or a carpenter. Then the little painted eggs were laid, and after Mrs. Dickey had sat upon them, and Mr. Dickey had sung to them, a sufficient number of days, two great mouths, with wee bodies behind them, were hatched out. I had expected a large number of charming babybirds, and was quite disgusted at the two little toad-like creatures. But Dick seemed to think all was right, and was so delighted, he could hardly keep still a minute. I was glad that his family was no larger, when I saw how he worked harder than ever to get enough to fill the two mouths, that after a whole half dozen wriggling worms had been dropped in successively, seemed just as hungry as ever. When All this while I had taken care that Dickey's open cage should stand in the window, and though he never ventured in it, when I was by, on coming into the room sometimes, I had seen him fly out of it, with his mouth full of good things from his well stocked pantry. Often as I sat by the window, he would fly about so near my head that his wings would brush my hair; then, lighting on a limb very near, he would turn up his eyes so cunningly, and chirp, as though to say what sport it was for him to tantalize me. I saw how happy he was, I could not wish him back, and gave over attempting to catch him, and then he would come and get berries and bits of apple from the window sill where I sat, and carry them to the two mouths in the nest. By and by, there was a decided improvement in the young Dickeys, till at last they got able to fly, when mamma said they would leave us soon, she feared. And sure enough, one cool morning-for it was now Autumn-when I ran out on the porch to throw down some crumbs for Dick, he paid no attention to them, but flew round and round me, almost lighting on my head, then lit on the bushes and chirped so sharp and loud, that I could but wonder what was the matter. This was the last I saw of any of the family. The next day, when I saw nothing of them all the morning, I went and told mamma, with tears in my eyes, that Dickey had gone, and asked her if he had not gone with his family over the sea, to live in the great flowers Uncle told about. "Why darling," she replied, "your Canary was a Robin !" "A Robin ?" Yes, and he has gone away south, where it is warmer weather, to stay all winter, and when spring returns he will come back and raise some more birdies in the nest under the window." I awoke in the morning, and found dear mamma had laid me in bed but partly undressed, for fear of waking me, which instantly reminded me of my pet, and running to the window, what should I see but he, singing his morning song on a rose tree at the corner of the porch. I cried and laughed with joy, and in a few moments we were all out, using our best efforts to regain him, but they ended in sad disappointment to mamma and sisters, as well as myself; for it appeared they had hoped to find him in the morning, before I should wake, and enjoy my surprise at seeing him in his accustomed place on the wall. When I mourned over Dickey's folly, and thought it such a mystery that he should have so little appreciation of such a comfortable cage, with every thing nice in it to eat, and so much attention, I felt quite sure he would come back the first dark, rainy night, and beg to be taken in. But mamma said the little birds nestled away under the leaves and limbs of the trees, and did not mind dark, rainy nights; and though she did not tell me Dickey would never come back, I knew she meant so, when she told me how dear liberty was to him, and how much happier he was out in the sunshine by day, and where he could be rocked to sleep at night in the branches of the trees by the wind; and that it was far pleasanter for him to use his own wings and take care of himself, than to be in prison with me to wait HISTORY OF ANCIENT ROME. upon him. And I began to think so too, when, in a few days, he and the naughty little bird that had coaxed him away, built a nest in the limb of a tree, just under my chamber window. I used to sit and watch them hour after hour, till I thought I took as much interest in their affairs as they did. But I wondered how Dickey, who had never been brought up to work, should take such delight in gathering sticks, and searching for tiny bits of stuff from morning till night, to make a nest of; and more than all, I wondered how he could know how any such a thing should be done; but mamma said Mrs. Dickey probably told him, and then I took notice, and saw her actually showing Yes, my merry Uncle had played one of his jokes off upon me, and a Robin-Red-breast was all the Canary I ever had. But his singing was no deception, and the sorrow he had cost me "no joke.” WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. BY JAMES W. WALL. CHAPTER XI. (Continued.) Tarquin, in the midst of improving the city found time to engage in war. The people of Gabii, a city of the Latins, made war upon the tyrant, and notwithstanding every effort to subdue them, it was only after seven years' continual fighting that he was enabled to reduce them to obedience; and even then it was only through treachery. His eldest son, Sextus, of whom you will hear more presently, pretended to desert to the enemy, and so deceived them that he was admitted into their confidence, and actually received a command in their army; and one night, he opened the gates of the city to his father's troops. But Tarquin was a politic tyrant, and he treated | the conquered people with great lenity, and admitted them to all the privileges of Roman citizens. It was shortly after the subjection of the Gabii, that an incident took place which resulted in driving the Tarquins from Rome, and the establishment of a republic. Sextus Tarquinius, the eldest son of the tyrant, of whom mention has just been made, showed by his treachery that he was indeed capable of any baseness. There lived at Colona, near Rome, a lady of high birth and great beauty, whose name was Lucretia, married to a relation of his by the name of Collatinus. While Collatinus was absent from home upon some military duty, Sextus took occasion to visit Lucretia, and though he was received very kindly by her, he insulted her, and treated her very cruelly and shamefully. After this he fled, and the poor, wronged lady went to the house of her father, in Rome, and told him all she had suffered, weeping very bitterly. Her father called all the family friends together, and Lucretia told them; and then, feeling very wretched, she drew a dagger from her girdle, plunged it into her heart, and fell dead. Great indignation was of course excited all through Rome, when the tragic story was told. One of her friends, Publius Valerius, afterwards surnamed Publicola, set off for the camp to acquaint Collatinus, her husband, with the story. He met Collatinus coming to Rome in company with this very Junius Brutus who was supposed to be a fool. As soon as Brutus heard the story from Valerius, he fiercely exclaimed "O Jupiter, and all ye gods! the time is now come for me to throw off this humiliating disguise. Heaven has ordained, through me, that the Romans shall be delivered from the accursed tyranny under which they groan! Let us hasten to Rome, to revenge the death of this noble lady!" No sooner had they reached Rome than a conspiracy was formed, having for its object the expulsion of the Tarquins from Rome. In the assembly of conspirators, Brutus snatched up the dagger, still red with the heart's blood of the injured Lucretia, and, kissing it, swore-standing over her body-by the blood which was once so pure, that he would pursue Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, his wicked wife, and all his hated offspring, with fire and sword; and that he would not, while he lived, suffer any of that hated race to reign at Rome. He then tendered the same oath to the conspirators; and they, having taken it over the dead body, proceeded at once to enter upon their dreadful work. Covering the body of Lucretia with a black cloth, they carried it on a bier to the Forum, to the place where the Senate was in session; and then, placing it in a conspicuous place, where all the Senate and Rome might behold it, Brutus, mounted on a high platform, discovered to the people of Rome that they had greatly mistaken him when they took him for a fool. In most eloquent words he painted the crimes of Tarquin. He then called their attention to the outrage of one of his base sons upon the noble Roman lady whose dead body now lay before them, and called upon them to expel the vile race from Rome. "Banish the wretches!" he exclaimed. "Let us assemble at once, and decree the banishment, and restore our liberties!" The next day, by a unanimous vote, the sentence of banishment passed by the Senate was confirmed. Tarquin, during all this commotion, was absent with his troops. Having received intelligence by messengers, he hastened to Rome, but it was only to find the gates of the city closed against him, and the battlements filled with armed men. Thus was he driven from the capitol, abandoned by his army and proscribed by his subjects. His crimes were great, and his punishment was just. In his old age, he was forced to seek an asylum among his old enemies. In this manner monarchy was abolished in Rome, after continuing two hundred and fortyfour years, because under this last king it had degenerated into tyranny and been stained with so many vices. FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. THE YOUNGEST ONE. BY WILLIE E. PABOR. The youngest one lies sleeping Close by the river's side, Where clustered willows, weeping, Are mirrored in the tide. When dusky twilight passes Upon the stilly air, HARLEM, N. Y., 1855. And back they turned-but taller and larger grew the trees, the undergrowth so thick as to be almost impassable, the sight and sound of human habitation utterly gone, and darkness, thick, dreary darkness over all. Harry was sobbing and crying at the top of his voice, and Theodore was shaking and trembling with fear. Neither was this fear groundless, for in the then unsettled state of the country, (it being forty years ago,) it was a dangerous thing to be lost in the woods, where still prowled the panther and wolf, and, far worse, the savage red man lurked about, a cruel and relentless foe. The poor children thought of all these dreadful things, and prayed in their terrified hearts that God would watch over them. And now, a gleam of pure and blessed moonlight streams through the tangled, thick woven branches, and the little ones gaze upon it, as the glance of a friendly eye. Tired, utterly worn out and exhausted, they fell down at the foot of a tree, and lifting up their hands to Heaven, murmured their evening prayer. After this they felt comforted, and clasped in each other's arms, went to sleep. The morning sun shone full in their faces before they awoke, and then they started up. bewildered at their strange situation. With the bright sunlight, and the sweet, fresh breeze, hope sprang anew in their hearts, and they started eagerly in search of home. Hour after hour they wandered, until hungry, faint, despairing, they sank down upon the ground, and burst into tears. Then Dory, with a brave and manly heart, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and tried to comfort Harry with all the pleasant stories he could think of. He spoke of the good old man in the Bible, whom the ravens fed, " And oh, Harry!" springing up joyfully, "see, only see the nice ripe blackberries God has sent us." And there sure enough, not far off, were hundreds of the finest and ripest of berries, which the famished children gathered, and made a delicious repast. Still Harry thought of the Indians, and every rustle among the leaves caused him to start in terror. Then Dory said he knew that Peggy Baily, *See poem "Our Baby Evaline," in the March No. of their little Indian friend, one who had played The Little Pilgrim. WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY. BY HELENA GAINSFord. CHAPTER III. THE LOST CHILDREN, OR DORY AND HARRY. The little boys rushed on "fast and furious" through the thick woods, over which darkness was rapidly spreading. They sprang lightly over fallen trees, glided swiftly beneath bending boughs, were torn and scratched by briers and brambles, but still went shouting onward, guided by the sound of Uncle Tony's tell-tale whip. It is getting still darker and darker, "Surely, he has gone a long way for the cows, and the whip has ceased entirely!" Breathless, panting with heat and fatigue, they paused on the top of a slight hill, and looked round, vainly trying to descry Uncle Tony's dark form, in the gathering gloom, or hear the lowing of the impatient cows. All, however, was dark and still! "Let us go home," said little Harry, "it is so dark, and the wolves will catch us." "Nonsense," replied Dory, assuming a boldness he was far from feeling, "Nonsense-don't be a baby, Harry. Uncle Tony must have taken And the Senate and the people cried, in a loud the cows through the old field, not driven them voice-"We will!" and called for arms. through the woods as he usually does, and he is home by this time, so we will turn back." Pleased at this alacrity, Brutus exclaimed with them thousands of times, and eaten with them, would not let her savage relations harm them. "She is only half an Indian," sobbed fainthearted Harry, "Peggy loves her white kin better than the Injins, and has left her mother's camp for good and all.” Children, however, as many grown people also do, cling to straws in their distress, and the thought of the kindness and love existing between this Indian-child and themselves, was a real comfort to Theodore. The second day was now closing, and yet, not the faintest glimpse of home! They stood upon an old log, hand-in-hand, despondingly watching the sun as he sank to rest, leaving them in loneliness and sorrow. Pat-a-pat, pat-a-pat, they heard the short quick step of some animal, a dog perhaps, sounding on the bare ground, and looking up they saw, not twenty steps off, two gaunt, lean, hungry looking wolves. Slowly they came on-closer and closer crouched the little children, scarce daring to breathe-their hair bristling with horror, their hearts throbbing loudly, their knees knocking together in an agony of terror. The wolves come nearer-one spring, and they would feel those sharp teeth-but, God be thanked! they have passed the boys! they have disappeared in the woods! Once more the children breathed freely, once more lift their hearts to God for saving them in this great peril. This night they could not sleep; but crept close together, listening tremblingly to the mournful hooting of the owl, and the despairing shriek of the panther, so like the cry of a human being in distress, and thought that morning would never, never come! Thus passed day after day, in hopeless wandering-their only food wild berries, their only bed the ground. Harry's strength was fast failing, and on the evening of the fifth day he dropped down pale and faint, declaring he must die. When, hush!-hark! What was that sound borne faintly on the breeze? Again, again, now distinctly heard, nearer, each moment nearer! Blessed, blessed sound! It is Uncle Tony's loud cracking whip! The sweetest music they ever heard. And now their names are called, and now Dory answers, for Harry has fallen back, too faint, too overcome by joy, to move or speak. A moment ог two more, they are in their mother's arms, and Kirrie is crying over them, with frantic joy! Harry is lifted tenderly in his father's strong arms, carried home, and laid in his own little bed. Now that we have gotten the "lost children" out of the woods, we'll leave them for another month. This is all true, little listeners, and I have seen the boys (now rather ancient men) hundreds of times. Remember, Helena Gainsford only tells you true stories, and, however uninteresting in other respects, they are all facts. WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. BABY ANNIE. BY MELANE TRACY. Gently sleeping, baby lies, She has closed her bright, blue eyes: Or you'll waken Annie. Oh! how calm her slumbers are, Of our precious Annie. Whispering low to Annie? As she calmly lieth there, WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. REMINISCENCES OF CHILDHOOD. BY E. E. C. CHAPTER I.-A WELCOME SURPRISE. where my geography should have led me, but to a retreat in the country, where the roses were now in their brightest glow, tossing out their graceful sprays on the summer air, serving the dreamer, till she longed for wings like a dove, and fairly envied a gay little butterfly its liberty to wander wherever it willed. Ah, here are fresh carriage tracks, and there, under the trees is the old gig, with its yellow body, and brown weather-beaten top. Dear old gig! with your rocking, easy motion-I have ridden in many a grander vehicle, but never have I enjoyed more than in you, as you moved along swiftly as staid old Charlie would draw you. Well, on this evening, I was almost wild with joy. This was the busy season, and Aunt and Uncle D. would not come merely for a visit: they would take me home, and I should play among the roses and the new-mown hay. I could not walk; I danced into the house. Aunt D. was seated on a sofa, dressed in her usual visiting costume, a rustling black silk, with a skirt of the same material, displayed now and then to good advantage by frequent recourse to the snuff-box ensconced in its capacious pocket. In those days I did not stop to admire the rich lace on her cap. I only thought that it shaded the dearest, kindest face in the world. My arms were tight about her neck. "You are thin, pussy," she said, "we must take you where there is plenty of fresh milk, instead of strong tea and rich cake. Don't you think so, mother? And I knew by my mother's smile, that it was all settled. I was very happy for the next hour or two. I soon found out that this visit had been decided on for weeks; that, unknown to me, all necessary preparations had been made, and that I was to stay some time. How very nicely packed was the little white trunk, with its brass nails. How many times I stooped down and lifted the lid just to look into it. A new apron, which I had not seen before, lay near the top, and last, though not least, spread out on my bed, was a new nankeen coat to ride in. How pretty I thought it, with its neat trimming of white braid! I am sorry to say that my poor little head was so filled with surprise and joyful anticipation, that when called to supper, I could eat nothing. Not even the pound-cake, fresh from the confectioner's, could tempt me. Never mind," said Aunt D., "her appetite will come by and by," and I was very glad to be released, and at liberty to put on my traveling dress, and survey myself in the long glass in the parlor, which reflected nothing remarkable, only the happy face of a little girl, just ready for a ride into the country. CHAPTER II.-THE RIDE. We started soon after tea, that our ride might be in the early twilight. My little chair fitted nicely between Aunt and Uncle D., and then I could see so much better than on the back seat. Ah, what a glad release from school was mine, one warm summer's day, a long time ago. True, the school-room was nicely shaded, though in the heart of a city; but that city was not New York, We left the city, and entered on the turnpike, or Boston, or Philadelphia, but a quiet rural one, with its long avenue of poplars. Beautifully in where trees where allowed to stand in forest-like the yellow light loomed up the rugged front of beauty, forming beautiful avenues, the green "Red Rock;" its seamed and scarred front branches meeting overhead, after the fashion of softened in that rich glow, while every moment some old cathedral aisle; still, here and there, the shadows grew deeper and more purple at the the sun shone on hot pavements, and though wooded base. How that rock seemed to follow nature's beauty was often freshened by dew and us! To my childish notions we stood still, while shower, the dust would gather on the long grass the rock moved on. Soon we passed the last by the roadside, and the brick and stone under- poplar, and descended the steep, stony hill, which foot were not like the cool green sward of the reminded me of Hill Difficulty in the "Pilgrim's country. So I thought as I walked languidly Progress." Then we crossed a covered bridge, home, for all the day a pleasant rose scent float- and on emerging into the open air, we lost sight ing through the open window, had carried my of the bold front of " Red Rock," while its beauthoughts, not to the opposite side of the globe, 'tifully rounded slopes alone appeared. Then we entered on a lane-like road. On both sides were fields bearing abundant crops of daisies, not considered very valuable by the farmer, but to my eye exceedingly beautiful, as their tall, graceful heads swayed to and fro in the gentle air. This lane seemed to be bounded by a red farm house, but on approaching nearer, we found a carriage path winding around the base of a gentle hill. On the top of this hill was a large barn, well remembered as one of the landmarks by which I measured the length of my journey. And now the road was all gently upward. Here and there through the trees, I caught glimpses of the distant hamlet, and now and then, of the chimneys of the dear old farm house, perched on an eminence, and looking fair to me as did the Palace Beautiful to weary Pilgrim. The air was laden with the perfume of flowers, and of newly mown fields, and grew sweeter every moment, till just as the shadows were closing about us, we entered at the wide gate, and rode through a long green lane, bounded on one side by the carriage house, granary, and kitchen garden, and on the other by pleasant orchards, where stood long rows of bee-hives. The rear of the mansion looked this way, and the dining-room door opened on a stone-paved enclosure, kept free from weeds as a carpet. But we did not enter there. We passed round to the gate opening into the green yard in front of the house. A box hedge edged the path on either side, while beyond the hedge, the spreading myrtle wove a soft, rich carpet. And now we were at home safe in the little music parlor, welcomed by loving words, and divested by loving hands of traveling array. How delicious was that drink of warm, sweet milk-and then, the little weary one was laid to rest in the little cot, with its snowy counterpane, in a corner of the "young ladies' chamber.” What a pleasant rose scent was in the room! Truly like Pilgrim's it might be called " "Peace," and like Pilgrim's also, "it opened towards the sun rising." CHAPTER III.-THE MORNING. I awoke early the following morning, and sprung from my bed to catch a glimpse of the sun rising. It was a new thing for me to be up at that early hour, and to one unaccustomed to such scenes, there is a strange and solemn beauty in the birth of a bright morning The neighboring mountain lay a purple mass against the sky, crimsoned with the blush of the morning, and while the yellow sunbeams streamed over the far landscape, "Spring Farm," with its orchards and gardens, its singing birds and odorous flowers, lay as yet in the shadow. The sound of a churn, and other tokens of labor, came through the open window, for Aunt D. rose early with her maidens, and ate not the bread of idleness. I dressed hastily, and with flying strings, which I could not manage by myself, I ran down stairs. 1 must have been a hindrance, but no one seemed to think so, and after bathing my face and hands at the stone sink, I was at liberty to amuse myself until breakfast. How well I remember the dining-room, with its oil-cloth carpeting and old-fashioned sideboard— the breakfast table, with its snowy cloth, and the tiny china cups, even the heavy silver fork which lay by Uncle D.'s plate. From a window which looked to the east, I could see the large mowing field, where the laborers were gathering for their day's toil. Baskets, nipperkins, and stone jugs, were deposited under a tree, and as the men sharpened their scythes, and the sound rung sharply on the air, it seemed like music to my childish ear. Then I went out of the door, and in a covered way leading into the garden I found Yousee. | flower garden. This garden was lined on three This dog had doubtless been a very high spirited dog in his youth, but that was long ago; he was now enjoying a quiet old age, and would generally be found in the covered way above mentioned, his nose resting on the cool paving stones, winking very profoundly, as though his meditations were of a very philosophical nature. He replied to my salutations by rising very leisurely and walking around me, giving two or three appreciative whisks of his tail, and then returned to his meditations. I opened the door into the garden, but the dew was heavy on the bushes and vines. How I longed to wander through those trellised walks, but one glance at my clean dress sent the wish away, and I returned to the house. sides by fruit vines, raspberries white and red, while the delicate trellis-work over which they clambered, shaded the walks. On the side bounded by the house, there was a green bank, separated by a broad walk from a row of choice currant bushes, the fruit in its perfection looking like clusters of rubies hanging from the branches. The flower beds occupied the remaining ground. Among them were some rare exotics, the gifts of friends, but the most prominent ornament was a multiflora, its delicate clusters wreathing with a rosy beauty the lattice-work framed for their support. There was a very rare honeysuckle on the green bank, and as I leaned forward to look at it, Cousin Alice told me that my patience The dining room was still empty of inhabitants, had been tried long enough, and that I might so I wandered into the music parlor. There venture into the garden. How glad I was to stood the piano, which in those days was con- be at liberty to wander through those pleasant sidered quite a fine one, but it would look anti- walks, to calculate when the fruit would be quated and ungraceful now, by the side of Chick-ripe-it was turning already. Then I tried to ering's workmanship. The piles of books and engravings, the little crickets under the mantle, looked very natural. Through the open east window came the exquisite scent of a rare damask rose, which in solitary beauty bloomed on the green bank below. But the fairest ornament in the cool, early morning, was cousin Alice. herself, fair and fresh as a rose, with her waving brown hair and pleasant smile, who moved quietly around, wiping the dust from the furniture, passing her fair hand over books and prints, bringing order out of confusion, speaking now and then of my home, of the haymakers, and laughing merrily at my childish remarks. Soon, I went to the front door and sat down on a seat in the porch. The sun had fairly risen over the mountain, and every dew-drop on the box hedge sparkled like a diamond. A honeysuckle, twining about the arched gateway leading into the garden, flung its bright tassels on the air and wooed me thither, but again I resisted the temptation, and turned my eyes to the quiet valley which stretched far beyond the enclosure, and the broad field, dignified by the name of a park, into which, through another arched and flower wreathed gateway, it opened. The valley, with its scattered farm houses, looked pleasant in the bright sunshine. The white stones of a graveyard gleamed through the intervening trees, and spoke their own lesson to my young heart. And now came the summons to breakfast, and the chocolate sent forth its delicious odor. My appetite was increased by early rising, and a drink of warm milk from one of those china cups, and the delicate bread and golden butter, were delightful. After breakfast I followed Cousin Alice into the best parlor, a room in which I especially delighted, from the fact that one of the windows looked out upon the flower garden, and besides, the walls were covered with portraits of count the blooms of the multiflora, but they exceeded my capacity for numeration. I watched the honey-bee gathering rich spoils from the honeysuckle, and when I was tired of these simple amusements, made my way through the enclosure, and across the green lane to the haying field. Uncle D. opened the gate for me, spread his silk handkerchief under a tree, and appointed me guardian of the lunch there deposited. How pleasantly blew the south wind that day! how beautifully the reapers kept time! how I tried to see whose swath was the widest! how musical the sharpening of the scythes! After awhile I amused myself with making ringlets out of dandelion stalks, and fastening them to my round comb. Pretty soon I had something to do. Uncle D. whispered, "would I like to unpack the lunch," and I was only too glad to be busy. I spread a napkin on the grass, and arranged in tempting order the ginger-cake, bread and butter, and cold meat. How they all seemed to enjoy it, particularly what was in the jug! I do not know what was in it, but those were not temperance days, and I suspect it was something stronger than molasses and water. blithe child is now the sober matron, but so Many years have passed since then, and the vivid is the remembrance of that day, that though while I write the winter wind rages around my mansion, with rude force pleading for admittance, still to me the air is balmy, soft and rose-colored. under her wing all the time I was writing. Poor thing! I didn't mean to hurt its feelings. Well, about a week after Tody's loss, a hen which my brother persisted in setting on Shanghai eggs, right in the middle of winter, brought out three chickens; of course it was too cold for the little things to remain away from the fire, and so they were carried into the kitchen, and the old hen very politely introduced to Tody: we soon found, however that there would be trouble in the family; Tody considered this an intrusion; whenever the hen's head was turned, she would slyly pick at one of the unoffending chickens, and, I am sorry to say, the mother hen often returned evil for evil, by using her bill upon Tody's only offspring.. While the "old folks" were acting in this unbecoming manner, a strong friendship sprang up between the children. "Little Tody," as we call her, would generously divide whatever was given her with the juvenile Shanghais. The old ones finally became so querulous, that we resolved to separate them, and as Tody claimed the right of possession, her enemy was put out of doors, leaving her little ones without a protector. Tody never noticed them, and seemed to grow indifferent toward her own chick, who appeared to become daily more attached to the motherless ones. Things went on in this way for a fortnight, when one morning as we opened the door, who should walk in but Peter! He had ventured several times before, but on seeing Tody show signs of battle, had suddenly retreated; this time, however, he walked boldly up to her, and whispered something in her ear, and I fancied her eyes sparkled as though she was pleased. Be that as it may, he talked a good while, and then they both went out together. After awhile she tapped at the door, and we let her in; the next day he came again, and this time, I imagined Tody looked sorrowfully at her little one, before she left; perhaps it cost her a struggle to give it up, but she did; she loved Peter the best, and has been with him ever since. As I mentioned before, little Tody had formed a strong attachment for the young Shanghais; that night, when they were put into the box, she refused to roost in her accustomed place on a chair, and perched herself on the edge of the box; whenever they became restless, she quieted them by imitating the noise her mother used to make to her, and, in the morning, all her time was devoted to them. She roosted on the edge of the box for a week, and one evening she suddenly disappeared. After searching through the kitchen without find low the waving grass. Ah, like that grass is down and withered. So has fallen many a friend by the way-side. "All flesh is grass, and the godliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of our God shall stand forever." WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. TODY, JR. BY KATE HARRINGTON. exertions to cover all; each wing was stretched out to its full length, yet with all her endeavors, she did not wholly succeed; a small portion of the body of one little fellow was visible. She has gathered them under her wings" every night since, and during the day takes the these long-legged Shanghais (which, by the way, grow very fast) following a chicken no larger than a pigeon. Never was an old experienced hen prouder of her brood than is Tody, jr.; if a cat interferes, she flies to their assistance, and every crumb she finds must be divided among them. the ancestors and relatives of the D. family. A COLUMN FOR THE LITTLE ONES best care of them; it is really amusing to see This room was not very elegantly furnished, according to modern standard, but it seemed to me something to be proud of more than many a modern one, with its adornments of crimson and purple, rosewood and ormolu. It had a handsome carpet and rug, antique tables and chairs, draperies of fringed dimity fell from the windows, but those old portraits would furnish any room. Gentlemen with elaborate lace ruffles-ladies whose stiff head dresses and short waisted robes would be laughed at by many a young miss of our days, but to me they looked thoroughly respectable, and I gloried in them as though they had been my own. After I had paid my compliments to these ladies and gentlemen, I took a peep at my beloved Won't it look queer, children, when they grow larger, to see great, tall Shanghais, following a little Banty? I had no thought, dear children, when I wrote my last sketch of Tody, that I would ever allude to the subject again: but we really have such wonderful pets I cannot forbear mentioning some of their exploits. It was only the next morning after I sent my letter to the Pilgrim, that Tody Tody, sr., has gone to laying again; she is not was called to mourn the loss of one of her children. satisfied with her nest, but seems very anxious to I cannot imagine what could have caused its death, lay in our father's hat! Whenever she gets a chance, unless it was the mortification it felt, on seeing she jumps up on the lounge, slips into it, and me, on the evening previous, jotting down some begins making a nest. I object to such proceedof its mother's naughty tricks. It must have beenings, however, and always invite her ladyship to that, for I remember how its head was thrust from come out. |