shut the book and write what we could about The Rabbit. And thelittle girl next me put, 'The rabbit moves his nose when he eats;' andthat was all she wrote. We did so laugh when she had to read it out."
"A very short essay, certainly," said Mrs. Wolf, laughing also; "still,it is strictly true, and that is something. But what did my little Linawrite?"
"I'll show you, mother," said Lina; and, with a deep blush on her face,she drew her slate carefully out of her bag. "The mistress was pleasedwith it, and told me I might show it to you."
Lina's slate had on it a really spirited little sketch of two rabbits,and Mrs. Wolf was both surprised and delighted.
"Did you do this, Lina?" she asked, as she drew the little artist toher.
"I couldn't think of anything to write," said Lina shyly; "I never can;so I drew the rabbits instead."
"My darling," said her mother earnestly, "if you work hard you might oneday be a great artist--I feel sure of it."
Mrs. Wolf's words came true in after years. Lina is now a well-knownpainter, and honors not a few have fallen to her share.
But that day in the garden, when mother first prophesied that she wouldbe an artist, is still the day that Lina loves most to recall. "It wasmother's praise that made an artist of me," she always declares.
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THE CAPTAIN
by F. Wyville Home.
I.
I should like to be the captain of a great big ship,And to take her out a sailing for a long sea trip.I would visit all the islands of the hot south seas,And the white and shining regions where the ice-bergs freeze.
II.
I would have a little cabin fitted up quite smart,With a swinging berth, a spyglass, and a deep sea chart,And beads to please the savages in isles far hence,And a parrot who can whistle tunes and talk good sense.
III.
When a storm of wind arises, and the great waves swell,We will scud along the billows like a blown foam-bell,When 'tis glassy calm beneath a sky without one fleck,I'll play a game of skittles on the calm smooth deck.
IV.
And if the crew should mutiny on some dark night,With my left I'd seize a cutlass and a pistol in my right,And I'd show them that their Captain has a right bold heart,And I'd make each man an officer that took my part.
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THE DOLL THAT TAUGHT A LESSON.
"Good-by, Annie dear; mind and take good care of Dorrie."
"Yes, mamma."
Ah! Annie, how easy it is to make a promise! A hearty kiss sealed it;then Mrs. Roby drove away in her carriage, and so our story begins.
Mamma gone out to spend the day, Annie left at home to take care ofDorrie, while nurse was cleaning the nurseries. Annie was six, Ralph,her brother, seven, Dorrie four, and the "funniest little puppet in allEngland," so Ralph said.
"Annie, I _do fink_ Mab could walk almost by herself with these bootson," said Dorrie, she and Annie back in the dining-room, Dorrie busywith a family of three dolls, Annie deep in a new story-book.
The wee mamma had just contrived to put a pair of new boots, of Annie'smanufacturing, on the by no means elegant feet of shock-headed Mab. Nextcame the suggestion from silver-tongued Dorrie, as Annie was silent--
"I _fink_ Mab and Alice ought to go for a walk. Baby is just gone tosleep;" and the mite was laid carefully among the sofa cushions.
"Very well." Down went the book; with that promise just spoken, Anniecould not well do other than go this walk with her little sister, yet ina listless, half-hearted way.
"You take the one hand, I the other;" so prattled Dorrie. "Oh! see herfeet!" and certainly Miss Mab did trip it out right nimbly down to thegate. How Dorrie laughed, watching her.
Just outside the gate they met Ralph.
"What are you laughing at, old lady?" he asked.
"Because Mab can almost walk by herself," she told him.
"Then she'll be running away one of these days," said the boy.
"Oh! she wouldn't--she wouldn't run away from me, because I love herso;" and Dorrie stooped and gave her a sounding kiss.
"You just wait and see," was Ralph's answer; then he went on, and thesisters pursued their walk.
Back again, then dinner for the children, a long sleep for the dollies,and next, the golden afternoon to be lived through and enjoyed.
"Annie!" cried Dorrie, coming down from the nursery, and peering in atthe dining-room, where Annie was now reading with a will, deep in thewildest tragedy of the story, where a dog, a gypsy, and a certain Sophiawere playing their parts in real story-book fashion. "Annie!" sosilvery-tongued Dorrie spoke her name again.
"Well, what?" was the unladylike answer from Annie.
"I _fink_ the dollies want to go out in their mail-cart."
"Well, take them."
"But I want you to come."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I can't; run away."
"Must I go alone?" asked Dorrie sadly.
"Yes, of course you must." And she went.
Shock-headed Mab, Alice, and Daisy in the jaunting mail-cart, Dorriedrawing it, playing pony and careful mamma all in one; out at the gate,along the road to the copse; a river came running and babbling along bythe road, as one neared the copse. Inside the copse the doves werecooing, squirrels leaping, the cuckoo crying, as the mite went along.What would send her back? Not her baby conscience, for Annie had toldher to go all by herself--big, big Annie, ever so big.
At home, the afternoon wore away, tea-time came; nurse ran down from thenursery to the dining-room to fetch her two little charges. Only Anniewas there, who started up from her book, like a girl awaking from sleep.
"Why, Miss Annie, I thought Dorrie was here!" cried nurse, in surprise.
"No, she--she"--Annie's conscience gave her such a prick.
"She what?" inquired nurse sharply.
"She took the dolls out in the mail-cart, and"--how Annie bowed her headas conscience whispered of that promise to her mamma broken; and herpoor troubled heart also whispered, "What if something sad was going tohappen?"
Well, they sought the child here, there, and everywhere, little dreamingwhat had happened, what was happening still. At last Ralph started off,by the way of the copse, to look for her. Annie hurried in anotherdirection, and nurse in yet another. Rover went with Ralph--good Rover,who could fetch, carry, and find so much. Oh, dear! what a seeking andsearching love makes, when even one wee maiden is lost! Ay, lost--not atrace of her could Ralph and Rover find, till they came to the babblingriver, and there, on the bank, lay a posy of lilies-of-the-valley, and aknot of ribbon from Dorrie's shoulder; the river babbled out the rest ofthe story. Poor Ralph! how he cried now!
"Dorrie! Dorrie!" he cried, peering down into the shining river, as iffearful of seeing a sun-bonnet and a gleaming of golden hair in itsdepths. But no; he saw nothing, only the minnows, the water-spiders, andthe pebbles.
"Lost! Rover, find!" said he to the dog, showing him Dorrie'sshoulder-knot and the flowers.
Rover seemed to understand, for he sniffed at the ground, and thenbounded into the river, diving down, and no doubt frightening the fishesas much as he did Ralph. Presently he came out, bringing--ah! what? Mab,dripping, water-bedabbled--a pitiful object indeed. The boy took her inhis hand, too alarmed to laugh, though fright and fun almost choked him;then the dog bounded and led the way into the copse, where the dovesstill cooed, the squirrels leaped, and the cuckoo cried, as if no smallmaiden was lost, perhaps never to be found again alive. The thought madeRalph shiver.
The river flowed through one corner of the copse; he could see itshining where the sunbeams fell through the tree branches. But Rover didnot go that way: he dived away among the trees and undergrowth.
"Dorrie! Dorrie!" cried the little brother.
"Wow-wow-wow!" barked Rover, but at first no response.
Presently, "Wow-wow-wow!" barked
Rover again; it was a joyful bark, andRalph ran to him. There lay poor tired Dorrie fast asleep, the tworemaining dolls in the mail-cart smiling and staring at her. But Roverwoke her with a pat, Ralph hugged her with such a fond hug; then theystarted homeward, Ralph taking the mail-cart, with poor wet Mab mountedin disgrace behind, Dorrie clinging to his other hand. They reached homein time to go in with mamma, returned from her visit.
"I left my dollies to go into the copse to pick some flowers, and when Icame back Mab had run away; then I went into the copse to find her, andcouldn't; then I cried and went to sleep, and Rover found me." This wasDorrie's story of herself.
"I will never, never, never break a promise again, mamma!" said