NOON-DAY FANCIES FOR OUR LITTLE PETS

On one side of our house was a high grape trellis. One morning kitty went out and began to climb this trellis. She put one little paw before the other, and went bravely up, up, up, till she reached the top. Then she looked down to the ground and mewed piteously. I suppose when she looked down and saw very far off the ground was, she was frightened and dizzy.

When I heard her cry, I ran out to see what was the matter. Their stood kitty on the very top of the trellis, clinging to the slats with her little paws. The fur stood up all over her back and tail, she was so frightened. "Mew I mew!" she cried.

I saw how badly she felt and how afraid she was of falling.

I tried to think of some way to help her. I got a basket and tied the handle to a long pole. Then I took hold of the pole and held the basket up as high as I could reach. Then I called, "Kitty, Kitty," and with a spring, down she came into the basket.

I took her down and into the house. She seemed so glad to be safely on the ground once more that I thought she would never do that foolish thing again.

But every morning this stupid little kitten would climb the trellis just the same, and have to be taken down in the basket. I suppose she thought it fun to climb up, and rather enjoyed the ride down in the basket.

—FANNIE G. DOWSE.

TIME.

Sixty seconds make a minute;

Use them well, you will win it

Sixty minutes miles an hour;

Use them well while in your power.

THANKSGIVING AT GRANDPA'S.

Where we live, it snowed from morning till night on the day before Thanksgiving. Papa and John, our hired man, got the double sleigh down from the loft, where it had been resting all summer. I don't think it was tired, but it rested all the same.

Old Kate and Charley were harnessed, and they were as frisky as young lambs. They seemed to know it was Thanksgiving, and were as happy as the children. We were all wrapped up in thick, warm clothes, and packed in the sleigh. Large as it was, we filled it quite full.

We all went to church first. Do you know what Thanksgiving means? The good people who first came to make their homes in New England set apart a day and called it by this name. In the autumn, after the corn had been gathered, the apples picked, and the vegetables put in the cellar, they felt very thankful to God for all these good things. They fixed a time to meet in the churches to give thanks to God. They gave thanks in prayers, in hymns, and in sermons. They had a good dinner on that day, and were as happy as they could be. The children and the children's children went home to spend the day. It was the home festival.

People do not go to church so much as they did, but it is still the home festival. We went to church; and after that we all had a long sleigh-ride to Grandpa's. Uncle George and Aunt Lucy were there, and cousins were almost as plenty as the snowflakes the day before.

We played "blind-man's buff" before dinner. We laughed and screamed, and rolled and tumbled on the floor. Grandpa and Grandma sat laughing at us, as happy as we were.

The great event of the day was the dinner. Grandpa sat at the head of the table in his arm-chair. Some of the children thought he never would get his knife sharp enough to carve the turkey. Flora, the maid, brought it in. All the little ones screamed when she put it on the table. It was a very large turkey, and was nicely browned. We never saw anything that looked so good.

The turkey tasted as good as it looked. For ten minutes the children did not scream or laugh out loud. I suppose their mouths were too full. Then we had to eat plum pudding and four kinds of pies. We did not feel so much like it as we did. I am afraid we ate all we could rather than all we needed.

After dinner Grandma told us about her little ones. We all wanted to know where they were now. Grandma laughed, and pointed to Uncle George, Papa, and Aunt Lucy. We could hardly believe they were ever little things like us. Then Grandpa told us how he killed a great bear near the old house ever so many years before.

Uncle George showed us how to play "London Bridge." Some of us were parts of the bridge, and some of us went under it. After that we played "snap-apple." Aunt Lucy tied an apple by a string to the ceiling, and we bit at it Every time we bit, the apple flew away from us. It was great fun.

After supper the "day was over" with the little ones. We could not keep our eyes open, and some of us slept all the way home in that double sleigh. I know I dreamed about that long table at dinner, and thought we were playing "snap-apple" with the big roast turkey.

That Thanksgiving was many, many years ago, and some of those mites of little ones that played "London Bridge" are grandpas and grandmas now.

—UNCLE FRED.

A QUEER PLACE FOR A BIRD'S HOME.

One evening last summer a tramp, who had travelled many miles, lay down on the leaves in a pleasant wood. Before he went to sleep he pulled off one shoe, for it had chafed his foot till it was very sore.

In the morning he rose, and prepared to go on to beg his morning meal. When he tried to put his shoe on, it hurt his foot so badly that he groaned aloud. He gave up trying to wear it, and threw it into the bushes.

The shoe caught in the fork of a young maple-tree, and hung fast by the heel, with the toe downward. The tramp limped away on his journey, and went I don't know where.

Before many days a bright-eyed little bird spied the shoe. She thought it would be a fine place to build a home in. So she and her mate brought fine twigs and straw and leaves in their bills. They placed them in the shoe in pretty nest-shape, and lined their new house with soft hair and wool.

Beth and her papa were out searching for wood-flowers one day. The shadow of the shoe fell on the moss beneath the little maple.

Looking up, Beth saw the nest. Her papa bent the maple down, and Beth looked in. She saw five cunning little blue eggs lying cosily against the gray lining.

Beth is a tiny girl, just past being rocked to sleep in mamma's lap. She laughed aloud, and clapped her fat little hands for joy, when she saw this dainty sight.

I think there were some little birdies in that shoe before long, don't you?—

—J. G. FORD.

LITTLE FIDGET.

My restless little boy,

You can't sit still a minute;

Your mug is upside down,

And not a drop is in it.

—LOUIE BRINE=.

THE GOOD LITTLE MILKMAN.

One morning last week I was walking along the street, and I saw a kitten on the pavement. It was white, with black spots on its head and neck. It sat as close to the fence as it could get, and looked very lonesome, as if it did not belong to anybody.

Every time a person went by the kitten would lift up its head and mew. I knew quite well that it was hungry and did not know where to get any breakfast. I wished that I had something with me to give it to eat. Just then a boy came along with a milk-can in his hand. He looked like a good boy. He had pleasant blue eyes and rosy cheeks. He was whistling a lively tune, as if he was very merry and happy. When Kitty saw him, she lifted up her head and gave a loud mew. The boy stopped and noticed her.

"Kitty!" said he; "I believe you are hungry, and are asking me to feed you. I wish I had a dish, and I would give you some milk."

He looked all around. By and by he saw a little hollow place in one of the stones of the pavement. Then he said, "Come here, Kitty; I have found a basin for you."

He poured some milk out of his can into the hollow, and Kitty ran and lapped it up as fast as she could.

Then he poured in some more, till Kitty had eaten all she wanted. When he had done this, he said, "Good-morning, Kitty," and he went on his way whistling.

Was n't he a good boy? I watched him till he was out of sight, because I was so glad that I had seen him. It is so pleasant to meet people that are kind and thoughtful, whether they are old or young.

I was very glad for Kitty, too. When I left her she was washing her face and stretching herself in the warm sunshine. She seemed to feel so comfortable now that she had eaten a nice breakfast. It was a real pleasure to look at her.

I hope Kitty will find such a good friend as this little milkman every day.

—HATTIE WAY.

SIX NICE DUCKS

There were six nice ducks that I once knew,

Fat ducks and pretty ducks they were too.

And one had a feather curled up on his back,

And he ruled the others with his

"Quack! Quack! Quack!"

Across the green fields those ducks would go,

Widdle, waddle, wuddle, all in a row;

But the one with a feather curled up on his back

Was always ahead, with his

"Quack! Quack! Quack!"

Hero a fat bug, and there a small toad,

They snapped up quickly while on the road;

But his broad bill would smack

As he ate with his

"Quack! Quack! Quack!"

Into the brook they went with a dash,

They swam through the water with many a splash;

But the one with a feather curled up on his back

He swam the fastest, with his

"Quack! Quack! Quack!"

Some dove to the bottom, pink feet in air,

And grubbed in the mud for fat worms rare.

But the one with a feather of worms had no lack;

For he stayed the longest, with his

"Quack! Quack! Quack!"

If I told you all that these ducks did,

What nice times they had in the meadow hid,

The one with a feather curled up on his back

Would fill half the story with his

"Quack! Quack! Quack!"

—AUNT SALLY.=

ROBBIE'S DRUM.

One afternoon little Robbie Fales came home with a very sober face. Charley Allen, one of the school-boys, had just had a present of a handsome drum. Robbie wanted one, too. He wanted one so much that he could not think of any thing else all the evening. At last Grandma began to wonder if he was sick; so he had to tell her what he was thinking about.

"I wish father could buy one for me; but I know he can't afford it," said Robbie, with a long sigh.

"Perhaps I can fix up one for you," said Grandma.

"Oh, I should be so glad if you could!" said Robbie. "I know you can fix lots of things; but I don't believe you could make a drum."

"Well, I can try," said Grandma; "and I think I can fix something for you that will make a noise, if it should n't be like a real drum."

So the next day, when Robbie was away at school, Grandma Fales went to work to make a drum for him in a way she had thought of. She found a wooden box that was light but strong, and about the right size.

She put some straps of red cloth around it to make it look gay. Then she fastened a long strap to it so that Robbie could hang it on his neck. For the drum-sticks she found some spokes that had been broken out of an old wheel.

When Robbie came home and saw what Grandma had done for him he was quite delighted.

"Why, this is a first-rate drum!" he exclaimed. "And it did n't cost a cent, either. I did n't think you could make any thing so good," and he thanked her over and over. He hung the box on his neck, and beat a lively rub-a-dub on the ends.

He liked the sticks very much, because they were so round and smooth. The homemade drum was greatly admired by the school-boys. Each one of them took his turn at playing on it; and they all agreed, that if it did not look just like a real drum, it did make a splendid noise.

Robbie said he was sure that he enjoyed it as much as he should if it had cost several dollars; and Grandma was very glad that she had been able to make him so happy.

—MARY E. NATHE.

LITTLE MISS SONNET.

Prim little Miss Sonnet

Once ordered a bonnet;

The biggest and grandest that ever was seen.

And little Miss Sonnet

She said, "I will don it,

For I am quite sure it is fit for the Queen."

Then little Miss Sonnet

She put on lier bonnet,

And tied a true lover's knot under her chin;

And this wonderful bonnet

Had red roses on it,

With all of them fastened in place with a pin.

So little Miss Sonnet

Went out with her bonnet,

And strutted about for a while in the park;

When the wind took the bonnet

With little Miss Sonnet,

And blew them both up in the sky, like a spark.

—ALBERT H. HARDY.

THE PIPPIN-TREE.

Karl and Christina were little German children. It was summer when they came to live in the house by the bridge. As soon as they were settled in their new home they began to go to school. The road that led to the school went by Farmer Grün's orchard. The trees in the orchard were full of apples. Karl and Christina would look at them when they were going past, and they longed to have some of them to eat.

"You must never go into the orchard," their mother said; "but if any of the apples should fall into the road, it would not be wrong for you to pick them up."

There was one tree that stood nearer the roadside wall than the others did, and it had bright red pippins on it. The children called this their tree, and every time they went by it they would say, "Pretty pippins, please to fall into the road."

Several weeks passed, and the pippins grew larger and redder; but they did not fall into the road. Some of them dropped off; but they fell into the orchard. By and by the harvest-time came, and Karl Sind Christina began to think their tree would never give them anything.

One day Farmer Grün was in the orchard as they were going by. He heard them say, "Pretty pippins, please to fall into the road." So when they were looking the other way he threw a number of the pippins over the wall. The children were delighted to see them, and ran to pick them up. Then they said, "Thank you, good tree."

Farmer Grün laughed to hear them, and wondered who these queer little folks were. He inquired about them, and found that they belonged to a poor but honest family that had lately moved into the town. After this he was often in the orchard gathering the apples for market. When he saw the little brother and sister coming, he would always toss some of the pippins over the wall where they could get them.

At last he spoke to them, and told them they might come into the orchard on Saturdays, and pick up as many apples as they could carry home. So Karl and Christina went many times, and worked as busily as two bees till they got a barrel of apples for winter. Farmer Grün liked the children because they were so honest and so willing to work.

—M. E. N. HATHEWAY.

MOUSIE'S MATCH.

A little gray mouse was out on his travels. He wanted to see the world and get some supper. It was late in the afternoon. It was growing dark, and mousie lighted a match.

You don't believe it?

Mousie really did it, though he did not mean to; and this is the way it happened: Mousie crept through a little hole into a nice, cosy room. It was very quiet and warm. Grandpa West sat there writing. There was a little pile of chips and bits of paper on the hearth, ready to light the fire next morning.

Mousie smelt crumbs of cake in one of the papers. He crept in and found them. They were very nice, but he wanted something more to eat. He nibbled some of the chips. There was a match among them.