The Nursery, October 1873, Vol. XIV. No. 4

The colt is very cunning; but he is naughty. One day the clothes were hung out on the line to dry. The colt got in the yard, and tore the clothes all in pieces with his teeth. He ought to know better.

W. O. C.

PEEPY'S PET

There was a little girl who was called Peepy; but why she was called so I do not know: perhaps it was because, when a baby, she used to peep from behind a curtain or a door, and cry, "Peep-O!"

She was a good little girl; but, when she was five years old, her mother had to go to Europe for her health, and Peepy was sent to board in the family of a farmer whose name was Miller.

One day Mr. Miller made her a present of a bright silver quarter of a dollar. Peepy had been taught to sew by Susan Miller; and so Peepy put her work-box on a chair in her little room, and sat down and made a little bag in which to keep the bright silver coin.

Then she took a walk near the grove, and saw two boys who had caught a robin, and were playing with it. They had tied a string to its legs; and, when the poor bird tried to fly away, they pulled it back again, and laughed at its struggles.

At last the little robin was so tired and frightened, that it lay on the ground, panting, with its feathers ruffled, and its beak wide open, and its eyes half closed. It seemed ready to die. Then the rude, cruel boys pulled the string to make it fly again.

"Please don't be so cruel," said little Peepy. "How can you be so cruel?" And she ran to the poor bird, and took it up very gently.

"You let our bird alone!" one of the boys cried out. But Peepy still held it, and was ready to cry when she felt its little heart beating with fear.

"Do give it to me, please," said Peepy. "I will thank you for it very much." But the boys laughed at her, and told her roughly to let the bird alone. "We caught the bird, and the bird is ours," said one of them.

"Will you sell me the bird?" asked Peepy, taking her bright quarter of a dollar out of its bag, and offering it.

"Ah! now you talk sensibly," said the larger of the boys. "Yes: we'll sell it."

So Peepy parted with her money, but kept the precious bird. The boys ran off, knowing they had done a mean thing, and fearing some man might come along, and inquire into it.

Peepy took the bird home; and Mrs. Miller told her she had done right, and helped her to mend an old cage into which they could put the poor little bruised bird. Soon it took food from their hands, and grew quite tame.

Peepy named it Bella, and kept it in her chamber where she could hear it sing. Bella loved Peepy, and would fly about the room, and light on her head, and play with her curls.

But as summer came on, and the weather grew warm and pleasant, Peepy thought to herself, "Bella loves me, and is grateful for all my care; but liberty is as sweet to birds as to little girls. I will not selfishly keep this bird in prison. I will take it into the grove, and set it free."

So Peepy took it into the grove, and set it free; and Bella lighted on a bough, and sang the sweetest song you ever heard. It then flew singing round Peepy's head, as if to say, "Thank you! thank you a thousand times, you dear little girl!" If Bella's song could have been translated into words, I think they would have been these:—

"Darling little Peepy,When you're sad or sleepy,I will come and sing you a merry, merry song:So do not be grievingAt this tender leaving;I shall not forget you, dear, for Oh! love is strong."

Peepy went home rather sad with her empty cage. But what was her joy the next day, to see Bella on the window-sill! She opened the window, Bella flew in, and they had a nice frolic. Then, when the dinner-bell rang, the little bird flew off. Peepy was happy to think it had not forgotten her.

Ida Fay.

SONG OF THE MONKEY

2 There cocoanuts are growingAround the palm-tree's crown:I used to climb and pick them off,And hear them—crack!—come down.There all day long the purple figsAre falling, I declare:How pleasant 'tis in monkey-land!Oh, would that I were there!3 On some tall tree's top branchesThe fleecy clouds would sailJust over me: I wish that IWere swinging by my tail!I'd swing and swing so merrily,How happy I would be!But oh! a travelling monkey's lifeIs very hard for me.