My restless little boy,
You can't sit still a minute;
Your mug is upside down,
And not a drop is in it.
—LOUIE BRINE=.
THE GOOD LITTLE MILKMAN.
One morning last week I was walking along the street, and I saw a kitten on the pavement. It was white, with black spots on its head and neck. It sat as close to the fence as it could get, and looked very lonesome, as if it did not belong to anybody.
Every time a person went by the kitten would lift up its head and mew. I knew quite well that it was hungry and did not know where to get any breakfast. I wished that I had something with me to give it to eat. Just then a boy came along with a milk-can in his hand. He looked like a good boy. He had pleasant blue eyes and rosy cheeks. He was whistling a lively tune, as if he was very merry and happy. When Kitty saw him, she lifted up her head and gave a loud mew. The boy stopped and noticed her.
"Kitty!" said he; "I believe you are hungry, and are asking me to feed you. I wish I had a dish, and I would give you some milk."
He looked all around. By and by he saw a little hollow place in one of the stones of the pavement. Then he said, "Come here, Kitty; I have found a basin for you."
He poured some milk out of his can into the hollow, and Kitty ran and lapped it up as fast as she could.
Then he poured in some more, till Kitty had eaten all she wanted. When he had done this, he said, "Good-morning, Kitty," and he went on his way whistling.
Was n't he a good boy? I watched him till he was out of sight, because I was so glad that I had seen him. It is so pleasant to meet people that are kind and thoughtful, whether they are old or young.
I was very glad for Kitty, too. When I left her she was washing her face and stretching herself in the warm sunshine. She seemed to feel so comfortable now that she had eaten a nice breakfast. It was a real pleasure to look at her.
I hope Kitty will find such a good friend as this little milkman every day.
—HATTIE WAY.
SIX NICE DUCKS
There were six nice ducks that I once knew,
Fat ducks and pretty ducks they were too.
And one had a feather curled up on his back,
And he ruled the others with his
"Quack! Quack! Quack!"
Across the green fields those ducks would go,
Widdle, waddle, wuddle, all in a row;
But the one with a feather curled up on his back
Was always ahead, with his
"Quack! Quack! Quack!"
Hero a fat bug, and there a small toad,
They snapped up quickly while on the road;
But his broad bill would smack
As he ate with his
"Quack! Quack! Quack!"
Into the brook they went with a dash,
They swam through the water with many a splash;
But the one with a feather curled up on his back
He swam the fastest, with his
"Quack! Quack! Quack!"
Some dove to the bottom, pink feet in air,
And grubbed in the mud for fat worms rare.
But the one with a feather of worms had no lack;
For he stayed the longest, with his
"Quack! Quack! Quack!"
If I told you all that these ducks did,
What nice times they had in the meadow hid,
The one with a feather curled up on his back
Would fill half the story with his
"Quack! Quack! Quack!"
—AUNT SALLY.=
ROBBIE'S DRUM.
One afternoon little Robbie Fales came home with a very sober face. Charley Allen, one of the school-boys, had just had a present of a handsome drum. Robbie wanted one, too. He wanted one so much that he could not think of any thing else all the evening. At last Grandma began to wonder if he was sick; so he had to tell her what he was thinking about.
"I wish father could buy one for me; but I know he can't afford it," said Robbie, with a long sigh.
"Perhaps I can fix up one for you," said Grandma.
"Oh, I should be so glad if you could!" said Robbie. "I know you can fix lots of things; but I don't believe you could make a drum."
"Well, I can try," said Grandma; "and I think I can fix something for you that will make a noise, if it should n't be like a real drum."
So the next day, when Robbie was away at school, Grandma Fales went to work to make a drum for him in a way she had thought of. She found a wooden box that was light but strong, and about the right size.