Three meadow birds went out in great glee,
All in the sunshiny weather;
Down by the pond, with the reeds waving free,
Where the ducks were all standing together.
“Good day Mrs. Duck,” said the three meadow birds,
“From all the news we can gather,
You’re a very good friend, of very few words.”
Then one flew away with a feather.
“Quack!” said the duck, “That feather is mine,
I see through your ways altogether;
You want our feathers, your own nests to line,
All in the bright summer weather.”
“What shall we use?” said the three meadow birds,
“There’s no good in moss or in heather.”
“We don’t care a straw,” said the old blue drake,
“If you line all your nests with sole leather.”
“Quack! Quack! Quack! You must think we are slack!
You talk too polite altogether;
We’ve had quite enough of your high-flown stuff,
And we know, you are birds of a feather.”
Putting out the Candle.
Charles Dickens, for that is the name of the gentleman you see sitting by the table, wrote many books and stories. Some of his stories are about little children for grown folks to read, and others are for the children themselves. Mr. Dickens had a pet cat, that was always in his library. Strange to say, it had no name. That was no matter, because the cat could not hear. He was deaf. But he liked very much to be petted, and plainly showed sometimes that he was not pleased to have his master do any thing else. One evening, when Mr. Dickens was sitting at the table reading, his candle suddenly went out. He did not know why it should have done so, but he got up and lighted it. In a few moments it began to get dark again, and he looked up quickly at the candle, and saw puss just raising his paw to put it out. “What did he do?” He gave the cat a loving little pat and went on with his reading. What a sly cat was that to find a way to make his master notice him.