Soon after sunrise the White Brahma cock came out for a walk, and his eye fell on the stranger. “What’s this?” said he, drawing back. He noticed the gold spots on the stranger’s breast, and his curling green and blue tail feathers, and his wrath rose. “I’ll curl his impudent feathers!” said he, and flew at him prepared to tear his comb out by the roots. The stranger did not show fight and was borne down, yet began to crow, and gave out such a string of victorious cock-a-doodles that the White Brahma turned and ran for his life. He did not know what Baby knew—that if you bore the rooster-toy down hard he would cock-a-doodle six times running.
THE BRAHMA FLEW AT HIM.
THE BRAHMA RAN.
John Peters.
ON ARBOR DAY.
“Let’s plant a baby tree,” said Bob,
To little sister Bess;