Still Tommy ran on in hot haste, without seeing a large, red cow standing in his way. The cow wondered what Tommy was after, and she at last thought he meant to hurt her. So of course she stood on her guard.

Well, Tommy had almost run upon the cow's horns before he no tic'd her. When he saw the angry brute, he forgot all about the butter-fly, as you may guess. Tommy turn'd tail and ran away as quick as he could, with the cow at his heels.

Tommy rush'd on, thinking of nothing but his danger, so, flop! down he fell into a ditch, and crackt his crown. On came Miss Collie, galloping, galloping, and jumped over the ditch, Tommy and all.

Away went the cow, scampering over the field, and she could not think where Tommy had gone to: so she began feeding as usual. Tommy at length peeped up out of his hiding-place. Seeing Miss Collie quietly grazing, he went softly away. need not tell you, that he chased no more butterflies that day.

WHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST.

To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!

Will you listen to me?

Who stole four eggs I laid,
And the nice nest I made?

Not I, said the cow,

moo-oo!
Such a thing I'd never do;
I gave you a wisp of hay,
But didn't take your nest away.
Not I, said the cow, moo-oo!
To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!
Will you listen to me?
Who stole four eggs I laid,

And the nice nest I made?

I

Bob-o-link! Bob-o-link!
Now what do you think?
Who stole a nest away
From the plum-tree to-day?

Not I, said the dog, bow-wow!
I wouldn't be so mean, I vow;
I
gave
hairs the nest to make,
But the nest I did not take.
Not I, said the dog, bow-wow!
I wouldn't be so mean, I vow.

To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!
Will you listen to me?
Who stole four eggs I laid,
And the nice nest I made?
Bob-o-link! Bob-o-link!
Now what do you think?
Who stole a nest away
From the plum-tree to-day?
Coo, coo! coo, coo! coo, coo!
Let me speak a word too.
Who stole that pretty nest
From little Robin Redbreast?
Not I, said the sheep; oh, no!
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so;
I gave the wool the nest to line,
But the nest was none of mine.
Baa, baa, said the sheep; oh, no,
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so.
Too-whit! to-whit! to-whee!
Will you listen to me?
Who stole four eggs I laid,
And the nice nest I made?

Bob-o-link! Bob-o-link!
Now what do you think?
Who stole a nest away
From the plum-tree to-day?

Coo, coo! coo, coo! coo, coo!
Let me speak a word too.
Who stole that pretty nest
From little Robin Redbreast?

Caw! caw! cried the crow,
I should like to know
What thief took away
A bird's nest to-day.
Chuck, chuck! said the hen,
Don't ask me again;

Why, I haven't a chick
Would do such a trick.
We all gave her a feather,
And she wove them together;
I'd scorn to intrude

On her and her brood.
Chuck, chuck! said the hen,
Don't ask me again.

Chirr-a-whirr! chirr-a-whirr !
We will make a great stir!
Let us find out his name,
And all cry, for shame!
"I would not rob a bird,"
Said little Mary Green;
"I think I never heard
Of anything so mean."
""Tis very cruel too,"
Said little Alice Neal;

I wonder if he knew

How sad the bird would feel ?"

A little boy hung down his head,
And went and hid behind the bed;
For he stole that pretty nest
From little Robin Redbreast;
And he felt so full of shame

He did not like to tell his name.

BOBBY AND THE FRUIT.

Bobby was a little boy, about five years of age. His mother sent him into the garden to amuse himself.

Now, Bobby had been ill, so his mother told him not to eat the fruit. She was afraid it would make him ill again. Bobby said, "Oh, trust me, mother. You will see I shall mind exactly what you say!" So he went into the garden alone.

Well, Bobby soon spied a great number of peaches and plums, and they were soft and ripe. Bobby longed to touch the soft down of a beautiful peach. Then he said to himself, "I told mamma I would not touch the fruit. But she did not tell me not to touch it. She only said I was not to taste it."

At last Bobby stretched out his hand and felt the peach. "Smelling is not tasting," said he to himself; then. he put his nose to the peach. There he stood thinking about the beautiful peach; but at last he went away from it.

Bobby next stopt at a plum tree. He lookt hard at the beautiful bloom of the purple plums. He was just going away again, when he saw a fine ripe one lying on the ground. "Oh!" said Bobby, it will be spoilt if it lies there, so I will pick it and take it home."

up

Well, Bobby pickt up the plum, and then he felt that the skin was broken. Of course the juice came out on his fingers. So Bobby suckt his fingers, saying, "My fingers are not fruit." How

C

ever, fruit or fingers, it was so good that Bobby longed for another taste.

Bobby took care to give the plum a sly squeeze. Out oozed a great deal of juice, besides part of the rich pulp of the plum. Well, what could he do but eat it up, for if he carried it longer it would soil his frock. So Bobby swallow'd it all in one happy bite.

It was only when Bobby's teeth toucht the stone that he began to think. And then he thought what a naughty boy he was. He was truly ashamed of himself, and away he went to his mother.

Bobby's mother soon saw there was some-thing wrong. As for Bobby himself, he at once told her the whole truth. Bobby's mother was vext, and next day she sent a servant with him on his walk.

Bobby saw his mother would not trust him longer. But he did not complain, for he knew he deserved it.

а

Once upon a time there were Three Bears, who lived together in a house of their own, near wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear.

a

They had each a pot for their porridge; little pot for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot for the Great, Huge Bear.

And they had each a chair to sit in; a little