THE TRUE HISTORY OF A POOR LITTLE MOUSE,

A POOR little mouse had once made him a nest,
As he fancied, the warmest, and safest, and best,
That a poor little mouse could enjoy;
So snug, so convenient, so out of the way,
This poor little mouse and his family lay,
They feared neither pussy nor boy.

It was in a stove that was seldom in use,
Where shavings and papers were scattered in loose,
That this poor little mouse made his hole :
But alas! Master Johnny had seen him one day,
As in a great fright he had scampered away,
With a piece of plum-pudding he stole.

As soon as young Johnny (who, wicked and bad,
No pitiful thoughts for dumb animals had)
Descried the poor fellow's retreat,

He crept to the shavings and set them alight,
And before the poor mouse could run off in his fright,
It was scalded to death in the heat!

Poor mouse! how it squeaked I can't bear to relate,
Nor how its poor little ones hopped in the grate,
And died one by one in the flame!

I should not much wonder to hear that one night,
This wicked boy's bed-curtains catching alight,
He suffered exactly the same.

THE LITTLE PHILOSOPHER.

MR. L. was one morning riding by himself, when, dismounting to gather a plant in the hedge, his horse

got loose and galloped away before him. He followed, calling the horse by his name, which stopped, but on his approach set off again. At length a little boy in the neighbouring field, seeing the affair, ran across where the road made a turn, and getting before the horse, took him by the bridle, and held him till his

owner came up.

Mr. L. (looking at the boy and admiring his ruddy countenance) Thank you, my good lad! you have caught my horse very cleverly. What shall I give you for your trouble? (putting his hand into his pocket.)

Boy. I want nothing, sir.

Mr. L. Don't you? so much the better for you. Few men can say as much. But pray what were you doing in the field?

B. I was rooting up weeds, and tending the sheep that are feeding on the turnips, and keeping the crows from the corn.

Mr. L. And do you like this employment?

B. Yes, sir, very well, this fine weather.

Mr. L. But had you not rather play?

B. This is not hard work; it is almost as good as

play.

Mr. L. Who sent you to work?

B. My father, sir.

Mr. L. Where does he live?

B. Just by, among the trees, there sir.

Mr. L. What is his name?

B. Thomas Hurdle, sir.

Mr. L. And what is yours?

B. Peter, sir.

Mr. L. How old are you?

B. I shall be eight at Michaelmas.

Mr. L. How long have you been out in this field? B. Ever since six in the morning, sir.

Mr. L. And are you not hungry?

B. Yes sir. I shall go to my dinner soon. Mr. L. If you had sixpence now, what would you do with it?

B. I don't know, I never had so much in my life. Mr. L. Have you no playthings?

B. Playthings! what are they?

Mr. L. Such as balls, ninepins, marbles, tops, and wooden horses.

B. No sir; but our Tom makes footballs to kick in the cold weather, and we set traps for birds; and then I have a jumping pole and a pair of stilts to walk through the dirt with; and I had a hoop, but it is broken.

Mr. L. And do you want nothing else?

B. No. I have hardly time for those; for I always ride the horses to the field, and bring up the cows, and run to the town on errands, and that is as good as play, you know.

Mr. L. Well, but you could buy apples or gingerbread at the town, I suppose, if you had money.

B. 0-I can get apples at home; and as for gingerbread, I don't mind it much, for my mammy gives me a piece of pie, now and then, and that is as good, Mr. L. Would you not like a knife to cut sticks? B. I have one-here it is-brother Tom gave it

me.

Mr. L. Your shoes are full of holes-don't you want a better pair?

B. I have a better pair for Sundays.

Mr. L. But these let in water.

B. I don't care for that.

Mr. L. Your hat is all torn too.

B. I have a better hat at home, but I had as lief have none at all, for it hurts my head.

Mr. L. What do you do when it rains?

B. If it rains very hard, I get under the fence till it is over.

Mr. L. What do you do when you are hungry before it is time to go home?

B. I sometimes eat a raw turnip.

Mr. L. But if there are none?

B. Then I do as well as I can; I work on and never think of it.

Mr. L. Are you not dry sometimes, this hot weather?

B. Yes, but there is water enough.

Mr. L. Why, my little fellow, you are quite a philosopher!

B. Sir?

Mr. L. I say you are a philosopher, but I am sure you do not know what that means.

B. No sir-no harm I hope.

Mr. L. No, no! Well, my boy, you seem to want nothing at all, so I shall not give you money to make you want any thing. But were you ever at school?

B. No sir, but daddy says I shall go after harvest. Mr. L. You will want books then.

B. Yes sir, the boys have all a spelling-book, and a testament.

Mr. L. Well then, I will give you them-tell your daddy so, and that it is because I thought you a very good, contented boy." So now go to your sheep

again.

Thank you.

B. I will sir.
Mr. L. Good bye, Peter.
B. Good bye, sir.

THE HORSE.

A HORSE, long used to bit and bridle,
But always much disposed to idle,
Had often wished that he was able
To steal unnoticed from the stable.

He panted, from his inmost soul,
To be at nobody's control,
Go his own pace, slower or faster,
In short, do nothing-like his master.

But yet, he ne'er had got at large,
If Jack (who had him in his charge)
Had not, as many have before,
Forgot to shut the stable door.

Dobbin, with expectation swelling,
Now rose to quit his present dwelling,
But first peeped out, with cautious fear,
To examine if the coast was clear.

At length he ventured from his station,
And with extreme self-approbation,
As if delivered from a load,
He galloped to the public road.

And here he stood awhile debating,
(Till he was almost tired of waiting)
Which way he'd please to bend his course,
Now there was nobody to force.

At last, unchecked by bit or rein,
He sauntered down a pleasant lane,
And neighed forth many a jocund song,
In triumph as he passed along.