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[Illustration]
Pity the sorrows of a Poor Little Dog.
There was a little dog
And he had a little tail,
And he used to wag, wag, wag it,
Whenever he was glad:
But whenever he was sad,
On the ground he would drag, drag, drag it.
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He had a little nose,
As of course you will suppose,
And on it a muz-muz-muzzle
And to get if off he'd try,
Till a tear came in his eye,
But he found it a puz-puz-puzzle.
He'd sometimes find a bone,
When he'd sniff it with a groan,
Because he couldn't gnaw, gnaw, gnaw it;
And he'd say as on he went,
With his head in anguish bent,
“I'm sorry that I saw, saw, saw it.”
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Too Sure.
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On a tree
Birdie sat,
Down below
Lay pussy cat.
“Come down here
By my side,”
Said the Cat,
The bird replied:
“For you, Miss Puss,
I have no love
I'd rather stay
Up above.”
“I'll come to you”
The pussy said.
Rose, stretched herself,
And shook her head.
She climbed the tree
(The cunning cat),
And reached the bough
Where Birdie sat.
She made a spring,
Her prey to seize,
But Birdie flew
Away with ease.
The pussy thought,
“Too sure was I,
I quite forgot
That birds could fly.”
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Firefly.
Through a sad misfortune Mr. Northcote's beautiful estate had to be sold
up. He was a great rider and lover of horses; but everything had to go,
and Firefly, his beautiful bay, was sold with the other horses.
After the day of reckoning Mr. Northcote went abroad. There success
awaited him; he worked hard to retrieve his lost fortune, and after a
few years he returned to England once more a wealthy man.
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One day he hailed a hansom, and before stepping into it was giving the
cabman the address, when the horse grew suddenly restive and uttered a
strange whinnying sound.
“What's the matter with yer?” cried the cabman, giving the animal a
touch of the whip.
“Don't beat him! He's all right!” said Mr. Northcote, coming to the
horse's head.
Again came the strange whinny, and the deep velvety eyes looked into Mr.
Northcote's like those of a human being; and they spoke to him, too, as
plainly as words could speak: “Dear master! Don't you know me? I'm your
poor old Firefly!”
“Firefly! It's Firefly! My beauty!”
And then, to the cabman's great astonishment. Mr. Northcote laid his
cheek against the horse's nose.
“To think you should have come down to this, Firefly,” he murmured, with
something very like tears in his eyes. Firefly whinnied again softly.
The poor horse had changed masters several times, and had had a hard
life the last few years; but all his troubles were over at last.
Of course Mr. Northcote bought him from the cabman, and three months
later, when the beautiful spirited animal was galloping round the
fields, it was hard to believe he had ever been a cab-horse!