LITTLE LEAVES
FOR
LITTLE READERS.
Under this title, we propose hereafter to devote a portion of each number of our Magazine to the special benefit of our very young friends—the A b c darians—those who have just begun to read. We intend, in fact, to make a little magazine on purpose for them.
And now, at the very outset, we wish to make a bargain in behalf of our littlest friends; those who have just learned to spell crucifix, amplification, &c. It is as follows:
The big Black-eyes and Blue-eyes have a right to read the older part of our magazine, first; after this, the A b c darians must be permitted to read our Little Leaves. We foresee that there will be a squabble between the old aristocrats and the young democrats, if we do not settle this point beforehand. Now, having spoken our will, we trust we shall be obeyed.
If any trespass upon our law, here laid down, occurs—if any little friend of ours is elbowed out of his rights—if his elder brother or sister ventures to peep into the story of Limping Tom, or Inquisitive Jack, before he has read it, we hope the case will be laid before us, and we shall forthwith proceed to hear and adjudge the matter according to law and justice. Hear ye and obey!
The Story of Limping Tom.
You will, perhaps, be surprised to hear that Limping Tom had two as good legs as were ever seen. Why then did he limp? That is a natural question, and I shall proceed to answer it.
Tom was not a boy—but a cat! He was born and brought up in a barn. One day, when he and his little brothers and sisters were frolicking over the barn floor, all alone, a little snappish dog peeped in and saw what was going on.
In he came, and began to chase the kittens. They were awfully frightened, and scampered in all directions. Some dove into a hole in the floor—one hid behind a barrel, and two attempted to climb up the hay-mow. One of these was our hero Tom. But, alas, as he was scratching up, the dog caught him in his back, and gave him a terrible grip with his long sharp teeth.