Chapter 2

"Well, I think Pansy must be learning a new piece to recite," said her mother.

"That's not it," said Pansy. "It's a 'portant secret: one that my mother will like to hear."

"Oh, it's important, is it?" said papa. "I do wonder what it can be."

"Mother, what day was it that you lost your wedding-ring?" said John.

"Don't speak of it, John. It was more than a month ago. I have hunted high and low, and cannot find it. I would have given all my other jewelry rather than have lost it."

Here Pansy turned red in the face, got down from her high-chair, and ran out of the room.

"Did you see that?" said papa. "The little rogue has found the ring, and that's her 'portant secret."

In a minute Pansy came back, holding up the ring, and her face radiant with delight. "I found it, mother, among my doll's things. You must have dropped it there when you were fixing them."

And so little Pansy's secret was out at last!

DORA BURNSIDE.

A TROTTING SONG.

UP and away! now up and away! We've a good long journey before us to-day. The road is smooth, and the sky is bright: Whoa, now! My darling, hold on tight! There's joy in the saddle. We'll scour the plain With a gentle trot and an easy rein; And, as we journey the way along, I'll sing my darling a trotting song.

Up and down! Up and down! And over the hills to Sleepy Town! Fast or slow, Soon, we know, Into the land of nod we'll go. Oh, dear me! Right off my knee, Into a hollow I didn't see; And baby small, On steed so tall, Came near getting a horrid fall. She's not afraid, My little maid, Too oft on her that trick is played; And good is she As good can be, If I'll only trot her upon my knee. Over she goes! But don't suppose I'll let her tumble upon her nose, Or give a fright To my darling bright, Who laughs and frolics with such delight. Whoa! now, whoa! We must not go So fast, my darling; for don't you know, At such a pace, So like a race, We never shall come to a sleepy-place? Trot, trot away, And tell me, pray, How many miles we have gone to-day? Up and down! Up and down! And over the hills to Sleepy Town!

JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

SAGACITY OF THE DEER.

A FRIEND of mine who has been in the habit of hunting deer in the Adirondack Mountains, is of opinion that the deer is often more than a match for the dog in sagacity. The deer seems to be well aware that the dog is guided by his faculty of scent in tracking him; and all the deer's efforts are directed to baffling and thwarting this keen and wonderful sense with which the dog is gifted.

With this purpose, the deer will often make enormous leaps, or run around in a circle so as to confuse and puzzle his pursuers. He will mount a stone wall, and run along it for some distance, well aware that the dog cannot scent him so well on the rock as on the grass. If he can find a pond or stream of water, the deer will plunge in and swim a long distance, so that the dogs may lose his trail.

It is a joyful sound to the poor hunted deer when the dogs send up that sad, dismal howl, which they give utterance to when they have lost all scent of the deer, and despair of finding it. He is then a happy deer. He hides quietly in some covert among the bushes, and he will take care to place himself where the wind will carry all odors of his body away from the direction where he supposes the dogs to be.

So you see the deer is by no means a stupid animal. He knows, better than many a little boy, how to take care of himself, and get out of the way of danger. And now can you tell me in what part of the State of New York are the Adirondack Mountains?

From a correspondent in Springfield, Mo., I have a letter, in which the writer says: "I suppose the Boston boys don't have deer for pets. I have a young one named Billy, and he eats corn out of my pocket. When I come home from school he always runs to meet me. Although he can jump over fences, he never tries to run away. He wears a collar with a bell on it: so we can hear him when he is down in the orchard eating apples, which he seems to be very fond of."

UNCLE CHARLES.

GRANDMA ASLEEP.

GRANDMA dear has gone to sleep; See how still the children keep! Little Johnny leaves his toys, And, without a bit of noise, Rests his book on grandma's lap While she takes her peaceful nap; Darling Mabel on the floor Sits all quiet and demure; And old pussy tries to be Just the stillest of the three.

JANE OLIVER.

THE LAY OF THE GRASSHOPPER.

1. There was a grasshopper lived in a palm-tree, Silver-voiced as a frog in June; Was not pleas'd with his situation, Thought he'd like to go to the moon. Oh! Heigh-ho! . . . How shall I get there? oh! . . . A hop and a skip and a flop and a flip, and over the clouds I'll go.

2. Up he went like a streak of lightning, Lit on the moon like a thunderbolt. Nought could he find but a man with a lantern, Riding about on a pea-green colt. Oh! Heigh-ho! . . . Why did I come here? oh! . . . A fling and a swing and a flap of my wing, And back to the earth I'll go.

3. Off he shot like a blazing rocket; Down he came like a falling star. What should he meet but a gay little goshawk, Flying up from the earth so far. Oh! Heigh-ho! . . . Poor little grasshopper, oh! . . . A snap and a squeak in the bonny bird's beak, And there was an end of him, oh!

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Transcriber's Notes:

Page 104, opening quote added ("Each cub would)

Page 128, "silver-voiced" was capitalized.

Page 128, closing quotation mark removed. Original read (earth I'll go.")