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PETS, AND HOW TO TREAT THEM.

“I can't,” said Kitty; “ I have to help Mother hang up the clothes. But Granny says it's only one stitch at a time makes her stocking, so I suppose it's one cabbage at a time for you."

“As if cabbages had anything to do with stockings,” said James, disdainfully; but he took up the dibble and set to work.

When Kitty grew up she went to service, but she never forgot her grandmother's words; and often, when she felt discouraged in the morning at the thought of all the sweeping and dusting and scrubbing that had to be done before she went to bed, it made it seem much easier when she thought it was only “one stitch at a time.”

injured by a sudden shock or fright. I remember hearing of one mother who ate several of her children, because a stranger looked into the hutch.

Oats, barley, hemp seed, hay, turnips, carrots, beetroot, parsnips, dandelion, almost all green vegetables, except cabbage, which should be given sparingly, are good for rabbits. Grey peas soaked in water suit some kinds, but not others. The food should be placed in a small trough, so that it may not be trodden about the cage.

Some people prefer giving three meals a day, but, as a general rule, two will be found enough. A saucer of water may be put in the hutch at meal-times, but should not be left there, except in cases of illness, when it is often the best medicine that can be given.

Rabbits are not considered very intelligent animals, but they certainly show wonderful ingenuity in getting at any favourite food.

I was once staying at a house in the country, where the old gardener showed me a remarkable contrivance of wire-gauze round the kitchen garden, saying as he did so, “I've been terrible worried with the rabbits, but I'm in hopes that will keep’un out."

It certainly looked as though no rabbit could get through, but the next morning the ground was covered with snow, and the snow was covered with tiny footprints, that proved conclusively that it took more than wire-gauze to “keep ’un out.”

Rets, and How to Treat hem.

BY THE EDITOR.

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111.-RABBITS.

REMEMBER once going to see a family, consisting of the father and

mother, two daughters, and a son, who occu

two rooms

in a London house, and while there, I

was in. vited to see “the rabbits.”

Such miserable, depressed-looking creatures they were ! And no wonder, shut up in a close confined space, where they could have but little air and no exercise ! Rabbits require plenty of air, yet they must not be exposed to cold. Their hutch should face the south, and even then, should have a moveable screen that can be raised to protect it from any unusually high wind.

If you have no place where your rabbits can run about in the open air while their hutch is being cleaned and ventilated, you had better choose other pets, for rabbits are lively little creatures, and to keep them closely shut up without the opportunity of exercising their limbs, is cruel.

Rabbits are very timid, and are often seriously

CHAPTER III,

VERY much astonished

was the housemaid. As soon as she could recover breath she said, “My scissors! You've sold

them to this gentleman, and I want them back, for they are grandmother's.”

"I gave you as good a pair instead,” he said, “but if you are not satisfied, we will change again, for those are in my possession. I never sold them.”

“Then how came they in yonder curiosity place?” she said.

“That's where I keep them,” said the old man, pulling off his hat

and wig, and standing upright and showing himself to be the master of the place.

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A DAMSEL WITH A DULCIMER.

43

A Damsel with a Dulcimer.

BY MRS. A. HARPER.

“ Don't scream, ,” he said, seeing that she was about to do so. “Keep my secret, and I'll keep yours, about your cousin the green-grocer.” The housemaid was electrified. “Do you still wish to change?" he said.

She dropped a curtsey, and said “No, sir.What could she say?

Your grandmother will be satisfied with that,” he said, putting money into her hand; "and for the matter of cutting, the scissors you have are better than those you have lost, which never would take an edge if I had ground them from then till now.” He went away.

A servant, as he left, joined the housemaid.

“That's master,” said the servant; “I should never have known him, if the valet had not told me so."

Does he often dress up so ? " said the housemaid faintly.

“No, I never saw him before,” said the other servant, “but several of the company have done it to-night. I wonder he did not make himself a beautiful prince, or something of that sort, and not turn himself into an ugly old knife-grinder.”

Great was the housemaid's relief when she found that her mistress did not at all allude to the subject at night, nor the next day, nor after, so that she had no temptation to tell the gentleman's secret, and therefore was sure that her own about the green-grocer was safe.

“What that secret was, as he never told it, nor she either, I never heard. Nor how it was the knife-grinder gentleman managed to obtain his information, and why he chose that way of amusing himself. I dare say he told his wife, when he was married, which was shortly after, bu she, like a wise woman, never talked of her husband's affairs. So do not blame me since I have told you all I know of the knife-grinder, the housemaid, her cousin the green-grocer, and the old scissors."

“ Is that all?” cried Kate.

“Oh!” groaned the whole party, "and never to say what became of anything! And who the knifegrinder was, and what his secret was, and what the green-grocer's secret wa:! What a shame! Oh, I can't bear that story! Marion, dear, do tell

And so on. “I tell you all that mamma told us,” said Marion. “ You know Madame de Fouet says, 'It is good to leave off with an appetite!' But there's the bell for tea, the day is over now. To-morrow is close.”

And this thought put the knife-grinder and his secret out of their heads. Yet they often spoke of it afterwards, and wondered “what it could be!”

I.
OUR O'CLOCK in the morn-

ing, and the sun shining as
suns do shine in Italy. Over
the top of a mountain his
beams fell brightly on the
opposite side of the ridge,
and lighted up the tiny panes
of a low building, something
between a hut and a cottage,

standing half-way down its side. The valley below, and the stream which ran and rippled along its bottom, were yet in deep shadow, but the garden of the cottage lay in such golden splendour that you might count its chestnut trees, and even discern the shape of the fig leaves trained on a trellis at one end, and the purple gleam of the grapes in its small vineyard.

Under one of the chestnut trees sat two children, nine or ten years old. Their heads were bent over a porringer, which both shared in common, dipping their large wooden spoons into it by turns. They were evidently brother and sister, though the boy's merry face and sturdy frame betokened robust health, while the girl looked pale and fragile. The boy took huge spoonfuls of the boiled chestnuts which formed their breakfast with an appetite of which there was no doubt, but his companion only played with tiny morsels, and at length laid her spoon down.

“Eat some more, Tessa darling,” said the boy.

“I can't, Rubino,” answered the little girl, looking across to the vineyard.

“ Ah! I see, you want a grape.”

“No, I don't; I know poor father must have them, and I wouldn't eat one if you gathered it. I’m hungry, too, but somehow I can't eat chestnuts. It's always chestnuts, morning, noon, and supper-time, and they make my side ache.”

"Ah, Tessa, when I'm a man you shall have bread and goat's flesh, and big bunches of grapes."

“ Yes, Rubino mio, I know I shall."

To be sure; and now, Tessa, sing me that pretty song you learned of Mother Rosa the other day."

The little girl's face brightened at once, and she began singing one of those soft yet spirited airs which may often be heard among Italian peasants. As she sang her whole aspect changed, her countenance lost its languor, and at length, carried away by the spirit of the music, she rose involuntarily, and finished her song standing.

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A DAMSEL WITH A DULCIMER.

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“What a superb voice!

The children started, and turning round, they saw a stranger peering at them curiously. He had come up the path from the valley, and entered the garden while both were enrapt by Tessa's song. Tessa's face lost its brightness, and with a frightened look, she dropped upon the bench beside her brother.

Good morning, signor,” said Rubino, promptly.

“Good morning,” returned the traveller, who carried a knapsack and a stick. “I hope I have not frightened your little sister.”

“She is with me!replied the boy, putting his arm round the little clinging figure, so she need not be afraid.”

“ No," said the tall, well-dressed man, with a smooth voice; “I see she has a brother who takes care of her.

But you have not finished your breakfast."

“Yes, we have; I have eaten enough, and Tessa cannot eat, so there is to spare.”

“Let me see,” said the stranger, politely, “ if my knapsack does not hold something which may tempt her.” And opening it, he took out a roll of white bread and a small case containing a cup and a flask of oil.

There,” said he, pouring some oil into the cup, “there is a breakfast for Queen Margarita." He handed the roll and the cup to Tessa as he spoke. “Dip the bread into the oil, little maiden, it will moisten your throat after your song.”

The child took the roll and began eating with evident relish.

“Thank you,” she said, less shyly, "how very good! The stranger drew forth a bunch of grapes, and tossed them to Rubino.

“Oh! Tessa,” said the boy, "here is just what you were longing for. I thank you very much, signor,” and the little boy rose and uncovered.

• You are welcome,” said the stranger, carelessly. “In the country I come from everybody eats such bread.”

“ What is that country?” asked Rubino.

“England !” replied the man; a land of gold; no black bread there, I guess,” and he laughed.

“ All white bread?” asked Tessa, in amazement. “Don't they live on chestnuts there?"

“No, indeed, on white bread, and flesh, and butter. Butter is something—better even than oil.”

“Oh, Tessa !” cried Rubino, “I wish you could go there! You would get strong in England.”

“ Yes," said the man, “and rich too, with such a voice, and such a brother to take care of her.”

Rubino flushed with pride and pleasure at the stranger's words.

“But I do not want to go," said Tessa.

“Have you any sisters who sing like you ?” asked the man.

“ Tessa!” cried a loud clear voice, come to your goats; they wait for you!

Tessa jumped up, and at that moment a handsome girl, with plump rosy face and bright hard-looking dark eyes, advanced from the cottage. She was older than Tessa, and wore a short stuff skirt and black bodice; thick linen, gathered round the throat, hid her strong shoulders; her feet and head were bare. Behind her came a boy not unlike Rubino, but older and taller.

The stranger eyed the entire group. brothers and sisters, I suppose?” he said.

“No!” answered Rubino, quickly. “ Carlo and Julia are not my brother and sister ; only little Tessa is mine,” and he drew her to him.

The stranger took no notice of Rubino's speech, but went on chatting in the pleasantest manner to them all. He opened his knapsack once more, and brought out a red ribbon for Julia, and some English clasp knives, which it was plain he meant to give the boys. Last of all came forth a doll and some coloured prints of English scenes and life. All were charmed with him.

The four children whom we have been describing were not indeed brothers and sisters, though they shared one home.

The mother of Tessa and Rubino had long been dead, and within the last two years, Albert, their father, had married the Widow Rosa. Julia and Carlo were her son and daughter, and came with her to the cottage on the mountain. Rosa herself was on the whole kind to the little orphans, and even good-naturedly consented to be called “Mother Rosa" by them instead of “Mother," but she had no control over either of her own children. Carlo was sullen and cruel, and loved to torment his stepfather's little ones, and Julia was sufficiently like him to find pleasure in teasing and frightening, though she did not actually ill-treat them.

For six months past there had been a cloud of sorrow and trouble hanging over the mountain home. Albert was seized with an illness which seemed gradually depriving him of the use of his limbs. He could no longer work for the vinegrower who employed him, though six mouths had daily to be fed. True, but little food is required by the poor in Italy, the warmth and brightness of the climate seeming partly to supply the place of nourishment; they could have managed to subsist on chestnuts and the milk of two or three goats, but the vinegrower wanted Albert's cottage for the

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man who was doing his work on the land, and at Michaelmas they were to go. This was the overwhelming sorrow.

While the children were talking so gaily to Signor Crispi, as the stranger called himself, their parents were holding sad converse within.

With the aid of his wife and a strong stick, Albert had come downstairs, and was now seated in the low chair close to the casement, which throughout the day he seldom left.

How pleasant the garden looks, Rosa! It will not be ours much longer to look at," and he sighed.

“Ah!” said his wife, “if only I could get you to Lorino; there is a famous doctor there, I believe he would cure you. He made Mark Remo walk again after sitting in a chair for years, and that's what I shall try to do, Albert. I know Mark Remo; he would lend us his mule. I think you might sit on it, and I could lead it safely.”

“ But the children ?” asked the man. • They must be left.” “No,” said Albert, “that is out of the question. They might be left if Carlo were not here, but not with him.”

" That is unkind, Albert, to my poor boy,” and Mother Rosa began to cry:

“ You know yourself it could not be," said Albert, to whom his little ailing Tessa was dearer than words could express. Then he added suddenly, “I would not mind if we could manage to take Tessa with us.”

And leave my own Julia,” said Mother Rosa, sharply. “No, Albert, I say no to that, unless Julia can go too."

“ I could not bear it,” said the sick man, wearily; “besides, it is idle talking; we have no money to live on when we get there.”

“ That is true," answered his wife.

“Mother Rosa,” cried a little voice, “Mother Rosa. Look! A gentleman has given me a doll. Kiss her, dada,” and Tessa pushed her doll up to her father's face.

Before Albert or Rosa could ask further questions, Signor Crispi himself stood at the door, and asked if he might have a little private conversation with them. Tessa was sent again into the garden, and seating himself, the stranger at once made a proposition which fairly amazed them both.

The Third Epiphany.
By The Rev. GORDON CALTHROP, M.A.

HE Lord Jesus had just entered
upon His public ministry, and
the question would naturally
be asked by thoughtful people :
" What is the nature of His
ministry? What sort of work
has He come to do?” This
question would be answered by
the miracle which we have to

consider in this paper. Let us look at the story.

There was a great difference between John the Baptist and the Lord Jesus Christ in their ways of living. John separated himself from mankind, dwelt in a wilderness, ate strange food, and dressed himself in a strange way; and though a grand and noble man, was solitary and unsocial. Jesus was very different. He “came eating and drinking," that is to say, He lived like other people; ate as they did and drank as they did, mixed with them, adopted their customs, and was interested in all that concerned them. Consequently we are not surprised to meet with Him at a wedding feast. Many persons would have said, “If you ask Jesus to such an entertainment, you may be sure He will not accept the invitation ; He is above such things.” But He did not consider Himself above such things, and when He was asked He came.

The newly-married couple were probably relatives, or at least friends of His. I feel sure they were godly people, and that the company were of the same kind; and that, although there was plenty of innocent mirth at the feast, there would be no unseemly joking, and no loud, coarse, boisterous laughter, and no excess of any kind. There would be cheerfulness, nothing more. The presence of Jesus would ensure good behaviour from everybody.

At the feast a very singular thing took place. By some mistake or other too little wine had been provided, and as the supply was beginning to run short, there was some danger lest the young couple should be put to shame for not having been more careful about arrangements for their guests. Mary the mother of Jesus felt for their embarrassment, and thinking that she saw a way out of the difficulty, mentioned the matter to her divine Son, and indirectly asked Him to help them. In doing this, she made a mistake. Jesus was her Son it is true, but He was also the Son of God; and now that He had entered upon the great work of His ministry, it was very unseemly for any one

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Patience. LITTLE Scotch school-girl was asked, “What is A

patience ?” She repliecl, “Wait a wee, and dinna weary.”

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even for His mother, to suggest to Him what He ought to do. And so Jesus gently and tenderly, but firmly, rebukes His mother, and makes her feel that she had done wrong.

However, after a time He does interpose. He bids the servants fill with water six large empty water-pots that are standing in a corner of the room, the six-I should tell you—containing no less than eighteen gallons all put together. They obey Him; and then, at His second command, draw out the water, and find, to their astonishment, that it is changed into the very best and purest wine. Such is the miracle. Now what does it teach us? Well, a good many lessons, but these three lessons certainly.

First, the power of Jesus. He can make all things do His bidding. He can blast the fig-tree, still the tempest, make the liquid waves a solid pavement for His sacred feet, and change water into wine. This is what the disciples feltthe power of Jesus : “He manifested forth His glory, and His disciples believed on Him."

Then, that He came to change the inferior state of things into the better. “The Law came by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.”

Then again, I think Jesus would teach us that He has laid His touch upon the whole of our human life and consecrated it to God. Does it ever occur to you that your play belongs to Jesus as well as your work-your week-day as well as your Sunday? This is what He asks you to remember. Perhaps it is more easy for us to think of this in our serious moments than it is in our lively ones—when we are sad, than when we are laughing; but it is true nevertheless that at all times and in all places we belong to the Lord Jesus.

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In a Flog.
By Rob Roy.

OU will read this paper in the light, but it was written in a fog. Now a fog is made of millions of tiny globes of water hanging in the air. You can see the white steam from a railway engine, and that is only a little

bit of fog. You can see more tiny still when the steam comes out of a kettle on the fire.

A fog in the day-time is bad enough, but a fog at night is much worse, when you cannot see, see the next gas lamp, and

everybody asks everybody else, "Where am I?” “ Am I on the right road to the railway station?

A fog on land is bad enough, but a fog at sea is worse still. The ships get near the rocks without seeing them, and often there is no wind to make the ships sail away from the danger. Lighthouses cannot be seen then, but the men in the lighthouse will beat a large “gong” made of brass, or sound

g. a great fog-horn, " and this tells the ear of the danger when the eye cannot see it, because of the white curtain of mist.

Many years ago I was crossing a great sandy desert in Africa, and we had a long “string” of camels, the tail of one being tied by a long rope to the head of the next behind it, and so all in a row followed the leading camel. That wise, careful, leading camel was chosen for his duty, but how did he know where to go?

Well, he fixed his eyes on a great, tall, wise, and clever Arab, who walked forward as the guide a long way in front, and when the camels saw him they knew he was going the right way.

After we had travelled some hundred miles in this manner safely, there came one morning a thick white fog and mist, as white as milk, and so close, that it was impossible to see more than six feet off. Getting ready for the day's journey, the patient camels were loaded with their burdens, and all rose up to begin their long, slow march for miles and miles, and hours and hours in silence. They started! How in the world did they know where to go? How did they walk fearlessly into the

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Poor Susan. T the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, There's a thrush that sings loud—it has sung for

three years : Poor Susan has pass’d by the spot, and has heard

In the silence of morning the song of the bird. 'Tis a note of enchantment. What ails her ? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail, And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. She looks, and her heart is in heaven : but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade; The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, And the colours have all pass'd away from her eyes.

WORDSWORTH.

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