HOW SMART MANAGED THE SHEEP.

Smart was a sheep-dog that belonged to a Mr. Scott, who lived in Scotland. On the large sheep-farms of that country a single shepherd often has the charge of from three to six thousand sheep.

The shepherd has with him usually two dogs; of these, one is the driving-out, the other the bringing-in dog. To the first the shepherd points out a number of sheep, and informs him by voice and action that he wishes him to drive them to a distant hill. The dog at once does as he is bid.

In the same way the shepherd informs the second dog that a lot of sheep on a distant hill are to be brought to the spot on which he then stands; and off runs the second dog, and brings the sheep to his master.

Mr. Scott's dog Smart was so trained, that he would never frighten the sheep. In driving a flock from one pasture to another, the sheep would often take a wrong turn, and then scamper off as fast as they could go.

At such times it is the custom of shepherds to send a dog after them at the top of his speed. He is not long in overtaking them, when, if the weather be warm, and the lanes narrow and dusty, the sheep are much frightened, and not infrequently are hurt.

Now, to prevent this, Mr. Scott would order his dog Smart to go the other side of the hedge or fence, saying, "Now, go ahead, and bring them back, and take care not to frighten them."

Smart would trot off so that the sheep should not see him, and in a short time would peep over or through the hedge. At length, when he had satisfied himself that he had got ahead of the sheep, he would come out gently in advance of them, and drive them back down the lane so quietly as not to give them the least alarm.

Smart would never attempt to go ahead of a flock in the usual way: he would manage so that the sheep should not know he was trying to get ahead of them. The picture will show you how he did. Was he not a wise dog?

Uncle Charles.

HOW TWO BOYS PASSED CHRISTMAS
MORNING.

There were two little boys who were cousins. One was named Richard; the other was named Paul. Richard lived where he could see from his chamber-window the Atlantic Ocean. There was a thick clump of trees at the back of his house; and in winter the ground in front would be often covered with snow.

Paul lived in Southern California, where, from his chamber-window, he could see the Pacific Ocean. He had a brother Harry and two sisters. It never snowed where he was: and he had no use for skates; for the water never froze.

Richard had a sister Mary, of whom he was very fond. Here is what Richard wrote to his Cousin Paul about his way of passing Christmas morning:—

"I wish you and Harry and the girls had been with us; for we had a good time on the ice. I'll tell you what we did. As soon as we had breakfasted, I got out my sled 'Dauntless,' and told Mary to wrap up, and bring her skates along.

"She got ready, and took her seat on the sled. Tiger began to bark; for he saw that a frolic was on foot. Off we started to the pond. A dozen boys and girls were there before us. They had made a fire on an island in the middle of the pond. It was a cool, bracing day; but the wind didn't blow.

"Our island we called 'The Isle of Refuge,' Julia Peters named it. She has a knack at inventing names. The island is fifteen feet long by twelve wide; and it has a rock that makes a capital fireplace.

"We had a fine time. All the girls could skate well. Nobody broke through the ice; but some of us had falls. No harm done. We thought of you, and wondered what you and the rest of our cousins in California might be about. I hope you will write me as you promised."

Well, Paul did write; and here is an extract from his letter: "We all woke early; for father had been out in a boat with some friends all night, and we were expecting them back. We dressed, and went down to the beach; and there, right in the face of the sun, we saw father's boat.

"Harry had a spyglass; and he knelt on the beach, and spied out father on the deck of the boat. Mother and the girls waved their handkerchiefs, while I jumped and shouted.

"It was a mild, lovely, morning,—so mild, that we wore our straw hats and light clothing. We thought of you; and I said, 'Wouldn't Richard like to be here, where Christmas morning opens as soft and warm as a day in June?'

"But Harry cried out, 'Don't you believe it! Richard is either coasting or skating; and I wish I were with him. How I would enjoy a high old time on the ice, and then a coast down hill over the snow! That's the fun for me!'

"'Well,' said mother, 'I am well content with this bright sunrise and this delicious air. I shall not sigh for the snow and ice.' 'Nor I!' 'Nor I!' shouted Laura and Kate: so you see Harry was in a minority.

"Father soon landed in his boat; and then we all went back to the house and had breakfast. After breakfast we had a merry time at croquet, and then a still merrier time at foot-ball.

"As Kate will write her Cousin Mary all about the Christmas-tree, and the things that Santa Claus brought, I shall not touch on that subject. Now I hope, Cousin Richard, you have not forgotten your promise to write me."

Here were two little boys belonging to the same grand country,—one writing from the shore of the Pacific, where all was balm and sunshine on Christmas morning; and the other writing from the shore of the Atlantic, where it was cold enough to skate. What an idea does this give of the extent of our favored land, and the wonderful variety of its climates and its products!

Emily Carter.