you would think of her sometimes when you saw them."
"Poor Ellen! she is better off now than any of us',' said Mary', while her tears fell fast upon Julia's snow white feathers`; "for we know that she loved God', and that he will not let her be sick in heaven. We shall love our doves better than we ever did before, for they will remind us now of Ellen. And oh, Alfred', what a sad day this would have been to us, if we had never tried to do any thing to make her happy."
THOMAS was an idle lad,
And lounged about all day`;
And though he many a lesson had',
He minded nought but play.
He only cared for top or ball',
Or marbles, hoop and kite`;
But as for learning, that was all
Neglected by him quite.
In vain his mother's kind advice',
In vain his master's care';
He followed every idle vice',
And learned to curse and swear !
And think you when he grew a man',
He prospered in his ways'?
No', wicked courses never can'
Bring good and happy days..
DYING SPEECH OF POOR PUSS.
Without a shilling in his purse',
Or cot to call his own',
Poor Thomas grew from bad to worse',
And hardened as a stone.
And oh, it grieves me much to write
His melancholy end';
Then let us leave the dreadful sight',
And thoughts of pity lend.
But may we this important truth
Observe and ever hold',-
"All those who're idle in their youth',
Will suffer when they're old."
THE LAST DYING SPEECH AND CONFESSION OF POOR
KIND masters and misses, whoever you be',
Do stop for a moment, and pity poor me';
While here on my death-bed I try to relate
My many misfortunes', and miseries great.
My dear mother Tabby'!-I've often heard say',
That I have been a very fine cat in my day`;
But the sorrows in which my whole life has been passed,
Have spoiled all my beauty, and killed me at last.
Poor thoughtless young thing! if I recollect right',
I was kittened in March on a clear frosty night';
And before I could see, or was half a week old',
I nearly had perished', the barn was so cold.
But this chilly spring I got pretty well over`,
And moused in the hayloft', or played in the clover`;
And when this displeased me, or mousing was stale',
I used to run round and round', after my tail.
But ah! my poor tail and my pretty sleek ears!
The farmer's boy cut them all off with his shears';
And little I thought, when I licked them so clean',
I should be such a figure, not fit to be seen.
Some time after this, when my sores were all healed',
As I lay in the sun, sound asleep, in a field',
Miss Fanny crept slily', and griping me fast',
'Declared she had caught the sweet creature at last.
Ah me! how I struggled my freedom to gain';
But alas! all my kicking and scratching were vain',
For she held me so tight in her pin-a-fore tied',
That before she got home I had like to have died.
From this dreadful morning my sorrows arose';
Wherever I went I was followed with blows';
DYING SPEECH OF POOR PUSS.
Some kicked me for nothing while quietly sleeping', Or flogged me for daring the pantry to peep in.
And then the great dog!—I shall never forget him`; How many's the time Master Jacky would set him`; And while I stood terrified, all of a quake',
Cry, "Hey cat`; and seize her, boy`, give her a shake."
Sometimes, when so hungry I could not forbear
Just taking a scrap, that I thought they could spare',
Oh! what I have suffered with beating and banging',
Or starved for a fortnight', or threatened with hanging.
But kicking, and beating', and starving', and that',
I've borne with a spirit becoming a cat`;
There was but one thing which I could not sustain`,
So great was my sorrow', so hopeless my pain.
One morning, safe hid in a warm little bed'
That down in a stable I'd carefully spread',
Three sweet little kittens as ever you saw
I concealed', as I thought`, in some trusses of straw.
I was never so happy, I think', nor so proud';
I mewed to my kittens', and purred out aloud';
And thought, with delight, of the merry carousing
We'd have', when I first took them with me a mousing.
But how shall I tell you the sorrowful ditty'?
I'm sure it would melt even Growler to pity';
For the very next morning, my darlings I found,
Lying dead by the horse-pond', all mangled and
drown'd!
Poor darlings! I dragged them along to the stable',
And did all to warm them a mother was able';
But alas'! all my licking and mewing were vain',
And I thought I should ne'er have been happy again.
However, time gave me a little relief', *
And mousing diverted the thoughts of my grief;
And at last I began to be gay and contented'
Till one dreadful morning, forever repented.
Miss Fanny was fond of a favorite sparrow',
And often I longed for a taste of its marrow`;
So, not having eaten a morsel all day',
I flew to the bird-cage, and tore it away.
Now tell me, kind friends', was the like ever heard',
That a cat should be killed, just for catching a bird' ?
And I'm sure, not the slightest suspicion I had',
But that catching a mouse was exactly as bad.
Indeed, I can say, with my paw on my heart',
I wûold not have acted a mischievous part`;
But, as dear mother Tabby was often repeating',
I thought birds and mice were on purpose for eating,
Be this as it may—with the noise of its squeaking',
Miss Fanny came in while my whiskers were reeking
And then to my back the hot poker applying',
She gave me those bruises of which I am dying.
But I feel that my breathing grows shorter apace',
And cold clammy sweats trickle down from my face':
I forgive little Fanny this bruise on my side':-
She stopped', gave a sigh', and a struggle', and died!
SUSAN IN THE DOG'S HOUSE.
One pleasant day in summer, little Susan was walking with her mother near their own house. Her eyes
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