He is climbing up his way To find him sitting snug at the top. I want to say something to those young people who wish to adopt as pets either a dog or a cat. Don't do it without making up your mind to be really and thoroughly kind to them, and to feed them as carefully as you feed yourself, and to give them shelter from the severity of the weather. Some people seem to have an idea that throwing a scrap, or bone, or bit of refuse meat, at odd times, to a dog, is taking abundant care of him. "What's the matter with him? He can't be hungry. I gave him that great bone yesterday." Ah, my dear boy, how would you like to be fed in that way? When you show your hungry face at the dinner-table, suppose father should say, "What's that boy here for? He was fed this morning." You would think this hard measure. In like manner dogs are often shut out of the house in cold, winter weather. A lady and I looked out once, on a freezing, icy day, and saw a great Newfoundland cowering in a corner of a fence, to keep from the driving rain. "Do tell me if you have no kennel for that poor creature." "No," said the lady, "I didn't know that dogs needed shelter." She had taken into her family a living creature, without ever having reflected on what that creature needed, or that it was her duty to provide for its wants. Dogs can bear more cold than human beings, but they do not like cold any better than we do; and when a dog has his choice, he will very gladly stretch himself on a rug before the fire for his afternoon nap, and show that he enjoys the blaze and warmth as much as anybody. As to cats, many people seem to think that a miserable, half-starved beast, with no rights that anybody is bound to respect, is a necessary appendage to a family. This is a mistake. It is far kinder to have them killed in some quick and certain way than to treat them in this manner. Cats are often said to have no hearts,-to be attached to places, but incapable of warm, personal affection. It was reserved for a cat by the name of Juno to refute the slander on her race. Her mistress was obliged to leave her at home and go to a neighboring city to live; so she gave Juno to the good lady who inhabited the other part of the house. But no attention or care on the part of the new mistress could banish from Juno's mind the friend she had lost. The little parlor where she had spent so many pleasant hours was locked up, but Juno would go, day after day, and sit on the ledge of the window-sill, looking in and mewing dolefully. She refused food, and when too weak to mount on the sill and look in, stretched herself on the ground beneath the window, where she died for love of her mistress. You see by this story the moral I wish to convey. It is that watchfulness, kindness and care will develop a nature in animals such as we little dream of. Love will beget love, regular care and attention will give regular habits, and thus domestic pets may be made agreeable and interesting. -HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. A GENUINE LITTLE LADY. Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice, I saw before me an old woman slowly and timidly picking her way. She was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black, wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags. Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and forgotten them. Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet in front, expecting every minute to see it go down and trying to hurry, that I might offer my help. At the corner, I passed three little schoolgirls, and heard one say to the other, "Oh, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our coasting, if we don't hurry." "But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I would feel so bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady. "She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but had not the courage to try it. "Well, I don't care, she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing looking wistfully over the dangerous sheet of ice before her. "Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully outstretched. “Oh, thank you, dear. I'd no idea walking was so bad; but I must get home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston. "Take my arm, then; I'll help you down the street, 'cause I'm afraid you might fall," said the child, offering her arm. |