He followed me everywhere. If I was reading, he rested on my chair; if playing on the piano, he would listen attentively: indeed he acquired such a taste for music, that the only time he ever seemed willing to leave me was to perch upon the foot of a gentleman who was singing very finely.
I taught him a number of tricks, such as bringing me any thing that he could carry, lying down very still till I told him to get up, and running over the piano-keys to make music for himself.
During the two years that Pidgy and I enjoyed so much together, he never fed from any hand but mine; and once, when I staid from home over night, he would not eat at all, but pecked at my mother and sister so that they were quite provoked with him. On my return, he flew to meet me with an angry "coo," his feathers all ruffled up, as if trying to reprove me for my neglect.
What finally became of my pet I never knew. I had him out on the porch, one day, and, as I ran into the house for a few minutes, the door was blown to, so that he could not follow me. A boy caught him up, and was seen running away with his prize. Every effort was made to find him; but I never saw my dear little pigeon again.
Anne Page.
EIGHTH LESSON IN ASTRONOMY.
How shall I make such little folks understand that the sun and the stars really stand still, when they seem to take a journey across the sky every day? Perhaps the best way will be to make a little game of it. We will explain it with boys.
I want a boy to represent the earth, and as many as can be found for sun and stars: there is no danger of too many. Now, the fattest boy of all must be the earth, and stand in the middle. We want him fat and round, because the earth is as round as an orange. (We need not mind about the size of the stars: they always look small, they are so far off.)
All the other boys must stand about him, and stand still. If they are not satisfied with their places, they must not move; for they are fixed stars. That is right. I can imagine you now just as you are, the fat boy in the middle.