every morsel he could get. Such a peppery little fellow you never saw. At last, when he had eaten enough, he flew away, and later in the day he was singing as merrily as ever, all alone in the holly-tree.

CHAPTER II.

'MAMMA,' said Annie, roused into better humour by the robin's cheerful song, 'I wonder why Robbie sings when all the other birds are silent? It is just as cold for him as for them.'

'So it is, Annie dear; but perhaps he is wiser in his generation than they are; so, instead of moping about because the weather is not to his liking, he is trying to make the best of it; and I should advise my little girl, if possible, to follow his example.'

Annie kissed her mamma, and with tears in her eyes said, 'I believe I have been very silly all this morning; but now I mean to try and copy merry little Cock Robin.'

'Not in all things, I hope,' said Charlie, who had just come. 'What do you think, Annie?—Ned caught (I believe) that very cock robin about an hour ago, and put him into a cage. You can't fancy what a rage the tiny creature went into; he bit at Ned's finger, and dashed at the bars, until seeing some crumbs, he turned his attention to them. A little while after, another poor little robin came to the window, so starved and frozen, that he allowed Ally to take him in her hand. She had only one cage; but as it is a large one, she thought it would hold both, so she put the little shivering stranger in. The first robin, who was as brisk as a bee, after eating a quantity of crumbs, appeared highly indignant at the intrusion; while the new-comer, evidently afraid of him, cowered down in a corner, and dared not venture to move. Poor little creature! he was not in any one's way, yet, whenever his fellow-prisoner flew round the

cage, he gave him a sharp peck with his beak. Ally thought it was all play. Soon after she left the room for a few minutes, and when she returned, there was the stronger robin looking as triumphantly as possible, as he stood over his weaker brother, and he, alas, was dead! Ally opened the cage to take out the poor little victim, and away the other fellow flew; and there he is now, after all his misdeeds, singing as merrily as if nothing had happened. So please, Annie, when you imitate Master Bob's cheerfulness, do not copy his fiery temper and pugnacity.'

'Well,' said Annie, 'you could not expect Robbie to be in good temper when shut up in a cage; do you think so, mamma? And perhaps his companion cowering down in a corner, instead of standing up bravely, vexed him; and perhaps he only meant to rouse him, not to kill him.'

Charlie laughed at his sister's defence of her favourite bird. "Perhaps" is a very convenient word, Annie,' said he; 'but I fear we cannot admit the plea, and must declare it a 66 'true bill" against Robin of the red breast

eh, mamma?'

'I fear so,' said Mrs. Hodgeson. But, after all, children, we cannot expect any creature to be quite perfect; so, while we avoid little Bob's hot-tempered pugnacity, we must not withhold our due meed of praise for the happy disposition that makes him take all things as they come. Sunshine or clouds, heat or cold, whatever his lot may be, he seems to exercise all his little powers in trying to make the best of it.'

CHRISTMAS.

LINES TO A LITTLE GIRL.

LITTLE girl, good morn! good morn!
The Holy Child this day was born!
Know ye where, and know ye when,
Or the wonders happening then ?
How the shepherds, struck with fear,
Saw an angel drawing near?
Bright its wing and sweet its voice,
Bidding them and all rejoice.
How the angels' chorus sung
Tidings glad to old and young?
Know ye when, and know ye why,
Came they trooping through the sky?
'Twas to tell of the Holy Child,
Born to earth and undefiled;
Came to draw us off from sin.-
Be, like Him, all pure within ;
Live, like Him, a blessed life,
Far from vengeance, far from strife;
Far from pride and passion blind,
Blessing kindred-human kind;
Growing wiser day by day,

Strong in Christ's own chosen way;

Useful in the walks of love,

Tender as the cooing dove;

Teaching all by act and word;
Blest where'er thy name is heard;

Living, as in God's dear eye;

Dying, as if heaven was nigh.

L. G. P.

STORIES ABOUT QUADRUPEDS.

'Ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee.'-JOB XII. 7.

E have a long voyage before us, ere we arrive at the place where the animal we are now going to tell you about resides; for, in order to reach it, we must cross the seas, and land on the golden strand of Hindostan, as it is in that country and Africa that Elephants abound.

Naturalists, in writing of this class of quadrupeds, call them 'pachydermes,' or thick-skinned animals, under which

name the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, the wild boar, and others are included. But we are not going to trouble you at present with long names, but rather lead you to consider the animal itself.

Let us suppose ourselves safe on India's shore, and on the confines of one of its large forests.

Let us enter, and treading softly (for the animal, or rather animals, we are in search of have acute powers of hearing), let us look at the elephant in its native haunts.

We will not find it alone, for elephants are gregarious animals, that is to say, they go about in herds, generally led by some old, experienced leader. There is a noble stream watering this fine old forest, and by its banks we are pretty sure to find a herd of elephants, for their greatest luxury is to wallow for hours in the water, and then repose under the shade of these lofty trees. See! there they stand, some of them bathing in the stream, others lying or standing in the shade.

Look at the one nearest to us, it is evidently the leader of the herd-an enormous creature, nearly twelve feet high, and about fourteen long. It is certainly not a beautiful animal; its shape is bulky and clumsy; and its thick skin, put on as if in folds, and of a brownish grey colour, though well suited to resist the spines and thorns of the bush, through which it has to force its way in traversing the forests, is not beautiful to look at. Its eyes are very small and piggish, but speak of a gentle disposition; and its ears, though large and ugly, are not nearly so much so as those of the African elephant. But certainly the most strange feature in the elephant's appearance is its long trunk or proboscis, looking like a long tube. It is wonderfully adapted for various purposes; so strong, that with it it can tear up a tree, and yet so flexible that it can use it to pick up very small articles, as it has an appendage like a finger. It acts also as the organ of touch and smell, and is used as a weapon of defence. By it also it drinks. Observe that one in the stream, 'slaking its thirst,' amusing itself, we would say, by