Scene IV.

This is a scene where our hunter was a looker-on, not an actor. He was on one of his expeditions with Jumbo, when they heard the trumpeting sound made by an elephant when angry. Looking through the trees, they saw a huge creature stamping with his feet, and tearing up the grass with his trunk. Presently a rhinoceros approached, as if the two had appointed to meet and fight upon that spot. The battle did not last long. The poor elephant could not guard the under part of its body from its enemy's horn; and it fled away, perhaps mortally wounded, leaving a stream of blood upon its path. This is the last scene for to-day of Mr. Lovesport's adventures, but perhaps he will send some more another time.

MOTHER'S PETS.

Little kid is bleating, bleating, "Pray, give me some cake;" Little baby's crying, crying, "Mine it mustn't take."

Goosey-gander, waddling, waddling, Wants to have some too; Cock-a-doodle, strutting, strutting, Crows out, "How d'ye do?"

Henny-penny's pecking, pecking Up the husks and grain; Mother's petting, spoiling, spoiling Everyone, 'tis plain.

Summer air is blowing, blowing Fragrance all around. See the blossoms, falling, falling Softly to the ground.

All the world is shining, shining Radiant with the sun. Summer glory shedding, shedding Light on every one.

HARES.

The picture on the opposite page shows us a family of hares enjoying themselves in a field of cabbages. How pretty, and yet how queer-looking they are! I think that one standing up in the middle, with his ears so straight up, must be Mr. Hare, while the others are Mrs. Hare and the children. They are eating away as fast as they can, while the good papa looks on, and listens with those long ears of his for the sound of any approaching footsteps. If he hears any noise of a kind which he considers alarming, he will give notice to his wife and little ones; then they will all scurry off so fast that they will soon be miles away from the spot where they have been frightened.

A hare never walks or trots, because the hind legs are so much longer than the front ones, but it goes along in a succession of bounds. Hares can take great leaps, too, in height as well as in distance: they have been known, when pursued, to jump over very high hedges, and even walls of moderate size. One curious quality in a hare is that it never becomes fat, however rich the pasture may be on which it feeds; consequently it can go very long distances without fatigue.

Though rabbits are easily domesticated, it is very unusual to see a really tame hare; and you will be surprised to hear that the only one I ever met with was in a house in London. I went one day to call upon a gentleman--an artist--who was very fond of animals: indeed, among other things, he often painted animals. I found him in his studio, working away at his picture, with three dogs and a cat and her kittens all in the room with him. I sat for some time talking and admiring his picture, when presently I heard an odd sort of knocking or rubbing at the door.

"I hear some one at the door," said I, after the noise had been going on for some time, thinking my friend did not hear it.

"Oh, that's only stupid old Tommy; he is such a bother; he never seems able to settle anywhere now he's so old."

"Who is he?" I asked, thinking he was speaking of some stupid old person.

"Would you like to see him?" said the artist; "he is not particularly handsome now, and he is dreadfully impudent."

Walking to the door he opened it, and who should come hopping and leaping into the room but a gigantic hare. He hopped past me first, and then turning round, came quite close, and stood up on his hind legs. He made one long ear stick forward and the other backward, looking more comical than I can tell you; and he twisted his curious, sensitive, moveable nose round and round, while he stared at me with his immense prominent eyes till I thought they were going to drop out.

"That isn't manners, Tommy," said my friend; "it's very rude to stare so: lie down." Whereupon good obedient Tommy crouched down, with his nose between his two front paws; laid his ears back flat on his neck, and did his best, I am sure, not to stare--but that he could not help, by reason of the peculiar nature of his eyes.

I caressed him, and found him as tame and gentle as a little dog. Indeed my friend had had him from the time he was a very tiny creature.

_PUZZLE-PAGE._

Now here is a puzzle-page for you. Of these six objects that you see, two begin with the letter B; one begins with G; one with H, and two with P. Can you tell what they all are?

THE FOX AND GOAT.--A FABLE.

A Fox once fell into a deep well, and could not get out again. A Goat, wishing to drink, came to the well, and seeing the Fox, asked him if the water was good. The Fox did not say he had fallen into the well, but pretended he stayed in the well from choice; and saying the water was the best he had ever tasted, begged the Goat to jump down and try it. The Goat jumped down, and drank; and then sly Fox told him that they were imprisoned in the well. "But," said he, "we may still get out if you will place your fore-feet upon the wall; I will then run up your back and escape, and help you out afterwards." The Goat did as the Fox asked, and Mr. Fox, running up his back, soon got out of the well, and then ran off. The Goat called after him, when the Fox, turning round, cried out these words:--"You foolish old fellow! If you had as many brains in your head as you have hairs in your beard you would have looked before you leaped."

ANGELS.

Mother, what are angels made of? Have they feet and hands like ours? Are they things to be afraid of? Do they hide among the flowers?

Mary says they are not creatures Made of flesh, and bones, and blood, Though they have the sweetest features, And are glad when we are good.

Fanny thinks they're always roving Here and there on wings of light; Gentle things, all kind and loving, Guarding us by day and night;

Made by God to keep from danger Little ones at school or play; Just like those that watched the manger Where the infant Jesus lay.

Tell me, mother--dearest mother! Oh, I do _so_ want to know. Susan says that "little brother Is an angel." Is it so?

Darling, this is all that's told us In the word of Him above, That those beings who behold us, In their unseen arms enfold us, Creatures are of Light and Love.

MAMMA'S SUNDAY TALK. MIRACLES OF OUR SAVIOUR:

THE TWO BLIND MEN RESTORED TO SIGHT.

The next miracle that I shall tell you about, my dear children, is one which is represented in the picture above; it is our Saviour giving sight to two blind men.

When He left the house of Jairus, the ruler, whose daughter He had raised from the dead, the scripture tells us that two blind men followed Him. As they followed, they kept crying out, "Thou son of David, have mercy upon us!" They meant by this entreaty to implore Christ to have pity upon their darkness and misery; to consider how helpless and useless they were; and, as He had just restored to life a child already dead, to have mercy upon them, and give them back their sight.

It is evident that these men thoroughly believed our Saviour to be the true Messiah, whose coming had been foretold by the prophets; for one of the signs by which the true Messiah was to be known, according to the prophecies, was His giving sight to the blind.

Our Saviour at first, as though to try the faith of these two poor men, appeared not to regard them. But they followed Him into the house where He was going, groping their way as they best could, and repeated their prayer, "Oh, son of David, have mercy on us!" Then Jesus, as St. Matthew tells, said unto them, "Believe ye that I am able to do this?" and they replied, "Yea, Lord." Then He touched their eyes, saying, "According to your faith be it done unto you." And their eyes were opened.

We may observe that Christ appeared to make faith a condition upon which the success of the miracle was to depend, and it is evident that these poor men had perfect faith. What unspeakable joy and gratitude they must have felt on finding their dark night suddenly changed into bright day. Without pain, without any operation, simply by the touch of Christ upon their sightless eyes, had one of the greatest of earthly blessings been given to these two men.

There is another miracle I shall have time to tell you about to-day, my children, which was performed soon after the last. It consisted in the feeding of a multitude of people--five thousand--upon five barley loaves and two small fishes. It took place on the shore of the sea of Galilee.

A great multitude of people had followed our Saviour to listen to His teaching, and He had led them some distance away from any town. He preached to them a long time, and was still continuing His instructions when the shades of evening began to gather round. Then the disciples reminded Him that the day was declining, one of them saying, "This is a desert place, and now the time is far passed: send them away that they may go into the country round about and buy themselves bread, for they have nothing to eat."

But our Saviour was too compassionate to send the people away hungry, and He intended Himself to give them food. He said to His disciples, "How many loaves have ye? go and see." And when they knew, they said, "Five loaves and two fishes." Christ then commanded them to make all the people sit down upon the grass; He took the five loaves and the two fishes, and brake the loaves, and gave the pieces to His disciples to give among the people: He also divided the two fishes, and gave them in the same way. Then the multitude, as the Bible tells us, ate and were filled: and, what is more, the disciples afterwards gathered up several basketsful of the fragments that were left.

Thus, by our Lord's power, those five loaves and two fishes were made sufficient to feed and satisfy that great multitude of five thousand people.

SOME OF MY LITTLE FRIENDS:

DORA.

I am sorry to say I have to tell you to-day of one of my little friends, whom I cannot hold up as an example to any of my little readers. Dora is an only child, and a very spoilt one too,--though I ought to mention that I think she is improving of late; and her improvement dates from the event I am going to describe. It was a severe lesson for her, but I hope and believe it will prove a useful one.

Dora had a very naughty and stupid habit, whenever she was found fault with, of saying she would run away. One day, when the family were staying at Hastings, nurse scolded her for drawing upon her books, and threatened to tell mamma.

"I like to draw upon my books, and I will!" replied Dora; "and if mamma scolds me I shall run away."

"Well," rejoined nurse, losing patience for once, as she afterwards confessed, "and it would be real kindness to us all, miss Dora, if you did."

Whereupon Dora walked out of the nursery, highly offended.

A little while afterwards mamma asked for Dora to go out with her on to the sands. The child was nowhere to be found. Nurse supposed her to have gone into the drawing-room: mamma thought her still in the nursery. The house was searched in vain. Then nurse remembered the conversation which had taken place:--Dora had really run away!

The alarm and distress of the father and mother were beyond description. The child was only seven years old: what could have become of her? Servants were sent out in all directions--on to the sands; to the pier; into the streets: but she was nowhere to be found. Then nurse had a happy idea. You must know that in many country towns like Hastings, an old custom is kept up of having a Town-crier. When people lose anything, like a watch, a purse, or a dog, they employ this man. He goes about the town ringing a bell to attract attention, and then reads from a piece of paper, in a loud voice, a description of the thing lost; offering a reward for its discovery.

Nurse very sensibly thought a lost child might be cried about the town as well as anything else; and a handsome reward was offered for the recovery of this naughty little girl.

But what had become of Dora in the meantime? She had run out of the house suddenly in her fit of anger, carrying her doll in her arms, but without hat or jacket. At first she was delighted to find herself alone and free in the streets, and laughed as she thought how frightened nurse would be. But after walking for a little while, she discovered that she had lost herself: for she had only been at Hastings two or three days, and did not even know the name of the street she lived in. She had hoped to frighten nurse, but never thought of being frightened herself; yet that was what it had come to.

She sat upon a doorstep and began to cry. Presently somebody spoke to her. Then Dora thought of stories she had heard of children being stolen, and started up and ran away. So she wandered about for two or three hours, till at last the Town-crier came close to where she stood in a doorway. She heard him read the description of herself, and the people standing by recognised it also. The crier had a kind face; she let him take her by the hand, and thus was led home again, followed by a crowd of children.

THE HEN AND DUCKLINGS.

_Allegretto. mf._

1. From the old barn floor to the cottage door, Struts forth the old white hen; Very proud she feels, for at her heels She has a brood of ten. She's glad to get out and roam about, Quite tired of sitting still; And now they will go, For she tells them all so, To the meadow down by the old mill.

2. For we there shall meet Many worms to eat, And beetles green and brown; But, she says, "D'ye hear, Don't go too near The mill-pond, or you'll drown." They waddle along The weeds among, And learn to scratch and pick; But each little fellow Is covered with yellow, And has a queer bill for a chick.

3. Very soon the hen, With her brood of ten, A beetle sees beyond; As she runs to pin it, In a minute All jump into the pond. She opens her eyes In great surprise To see them swim with ease, And says, "Well, I never! Now, pray, did you ever See any such chickens as these?"

GROUSE.

For the subject of our natural history picture to-day we have some Grouse. There is a nice little family of grouse, consisting of papa, mamma, and four children, all taking a pleasant walk among the heath and fern. At the same time the old birds are searching for the wild berries, the buds of the heath, and the seeds which form their principal food. Look how eager the young ones are to have their share of some nice berries, which mamma grouse has just found!

These birds are only met with on moors or wild heaths, and chiefly in mountainous countries; indeed Scotland is the country where they are now principally found, and people often go there on purpose for the grouse-shooting. I daresay some of my little readers already know that grouse-shooting begins on the 12th of August, a great day for sportsmen. From the way in which game is now preserved in England, partridge-shooting has come to be a tamer sport than it used to be. Many brace of partridges may sometimes be brought down during a short walk over cultivated fields, and such sport seems less manly than taking long fatiguing walks over breezy moors, as sportsmen have to do in search of grouse.

The grouse is a very wild and shy bird, and both skill and caution are required in approaching them; they live in flocks, called "packs," and form their nests, as partridges do, upon the ground. Their plumage is a rich brown, mottled with paler spots; the tail is black, with the exception of four of the feathers, which have red marks on them: over the eye also is a rough bare red spot. The bill of the grouse is short, arched, and very strong; and the legs of this bird, as the winter approaches, become feathered. As an article of food, the grouse is very delicate, and has an excellent flavour.

The bird I have been describing is the red grouse; that is in fact the common grouse. But there is also found in Scotland, though less frequently, the black grouse, which is a much larger bird. The red grouse is rather bigger than a partridge.

I once made the acquaintance of a tame grouse--one at least that had been domesticated. The gentleman it belonged to had picked it up out of its nest when a tiny thing on the moors in Scotland; and being a great bird-fancier, and having a collection, he had brought it in a cage to his house in Kent. When I saw Peter--that was the name given the grouse,--he was quite tame, but very ill-tempered. You might take him up if you pleased, but he always pecked the hand that did so. Peter was supposed to live habitually in a wicker cage, but in truth he had pretty well the run of the house. More than once he had taken flight beyond the premises, but had returned for his food. One day however he was missed, and never came back. His fate may be surmised from the fact that about the same time a party of gentlemen in the neighbourhood, being out shooting--it was September--were surprised to find a grouse among the game they had killed.

A STORY OF A WOODEN HORSE.