from them. They ran up the walls to eat the bacon, though hung as high as the ceiling; they plundered the store room of sweetmeats, and made great holes in the pies and cheeses.

They gnawed through cupboard doors, and ran races within the walls, and under the floor. The cats could not get at them, and traps only now and then caught a heedless straggler. One of these was taken. A little boy fastened a collar about his neck with a little bell fixed to it, and let him loose again.

The Rat was overjoyed to be free once more: he ran to the nearest hole, and went in search of his companions. They heard the bell-tinkle, tinkle, and fearing something was coming among them to hurt them, away they ran, some one way, and some another. The bell-wearer ran too; he guessed why they fled so fast, and was very much amused at their fright. Whereever he came not a tail was to be seen; he chased his old friends from room to room, and from hole to hole.

He soon had the whole house to himself, and all the good eatables for his own use; he liked this very much, for a few days; but he soon grew tired of being alone, and longed for his companions once more.

His difficulty was, how to get rid of the bell. He pulled and tugged at it with his fore feet, and almost wore the skin off his neck, by dragging at the collar; but all was in vain. The bell was now his plague and torment. He wandered from room to room, seeking some other rats-they all kept out of his reach. At last as he was moping

about one day, he fell in puss's way, devoured in an instant.

and was

EVENINGS AT HOME.

The Rat was as much pleased when all the other rats ran away through fear of him, as some silly children are when they play tricks upon their companions. These silly children would do well to remember the story of the rat. They may be amused a little while by the pain they give to others, but this foolish pleasure will not last long. Those who make others afraid of them, make themselves disagreeable, and then no one likes to play with or to be near them.

THE KID.

KIDS are little goats. Goats do not like to live in the streets and houses, like the dogs and pigs. Goats love to run and jump about in the country, and to gnaw the bark of trees. Goats give very thick, rich milk. People used to carry goats to sea, so that they might have milk with their tea, but now they carry cows in ships.

Mary, a little girl who lived in a place where there are many goats, taking a walk one day found a little kid; its mother, the old goat, had left it-it was almost dead.

Mary felt sorry for the poor little kid; she took it up, hugged it in her arms, and carried it

home with her. She begged her mother to let her keep the kid for her own her leave.

her mother

gave

Mary got a basket full of clean straw, and laid it on the warm hearth for a bed for the kid. She warmed some milk, and held it to him to drink; the kid drank it, and licked Mary's hand for more. Mary was delighted when she saw him jump out of the basket, and run about the room; presently he lay down again, and took a comfortable nap.

The next day, Mary gave her kid a name ; he was an excellent jumper, so she called him Capriole. She showed him to all the family, and allowed her little brothers and sister to stroke and pat him. Capriole soon followed Mary all about the house, trotted by her side into the yard; ran races with her in the field, fed out of her hand, and was a great pet at all times. Capriole soon grew troublesome; he thrust his nose into the meal tub, and flour box, and sometimes got a blow for sipping the milk.

Capriole's little horns soon began to appear, and a white beard sprouted at the end of his chin; he grew bold enough to fight when he was angry, and sometimes threw down Colin, Mary's little brother, into the dirt. Every body said, "Capriole is getting too saucy; he must be sent away, or be taught to behave better." Mary always took his part, and indulged him very much. Capriole loved his little mistress dearly.

Near to Mary's house were some large fields, and some tall rocks; a little further off was a high hill. One fine summer's day Mary had

finished her morning's work, and wanted to play with her kid; she looked about the house door, and could not see Capriole; she then ran to the field, and called aloud, "Capriole! Capriole !" expecting to see him come running towards her. No Capriole came. She went on, and on, still calling her kid, but nothing was to be seen of

him.

Her heart began to beat. "What can have become of him? Somebody must have stolen him-perhaps the neighbor's dogs have killed him. Oh my Capriole ! my dear Capriole! I shall never see you again."

Mary began to cry, but she still went on, looking all round, calling, "Capriole! Capriole!"

After a while she heard the voice of Capriole -she looked up, and saw her little goat, standing on the edge of a high rock; she was afraid to call him, lest he should jump down, and break his neck. There was no danger; Capriole had run away from his mistress; he liked the fields and the rocks better than he liked Mary She waited for him, however, till she was tired, and then went home and got her little brothers to go back with her to the foot of the hill. They carried some bread and milk for Capriole, but they could not persuade him back again; he had found a herd of goats, and they were playing together.

Mary went home crying to her mother, and told how Capriole had served her. "I am sorry for you, my dear," said her mother," but take care, my daughter, not to love runaways any

more."

EVENINGS AT HOME.

DIALOGUE

BETWEEN FATHER AND SON.

F. COME hither, Charles.

What is that you

see in the field before you?

C. It is a horse.

F. Whose horse is it?

C. I do not know; I never saw it before. F. How do you know that it is a horse, if you never saw it before?

C. Because it is like other horses.

F. Are all horses alike, then?

C. Yes.

F. If they are all alike, how do you know one horse from another?

C. They are not quite alike.

F. But they are so much alike that easily distinguish a horse from a cow. C. Yes, indeed.

F. Or from a cabbage.

you can

C. A horse from a cabbage! yes, surely I

can.

F. Very well; then let us see if you can tell how a horse differs from a cabbage?

C. Very easily; a horse is alive.

F. True; and how is every thing called which is alive?

C. I believe all things which are alive, are called animals.

F. Right; but can you tell me what a horse and a cabbage are alike in?

C. Nothing, I believe.