Left post. The act or process of reasoning.

Round 1. A boy's Christian name.

" 2. A small singing bird.

" 3. A town prominent in the South African War.

" 4. A large island in the Pacific.

" 5. A terrible monster of Greek legend.

" 6. Another island in the Pacific.

" 7. A race which invaded and conquered England.

C. J. B.

[_Answer on page 371._]

ANSWER TO PUZZLE ON PAGE 290.

14.--1. F-rail.

2. S-tale.

3. B-one.

4. S-hake.

5. F-right.

6. T-haw.

THE a.s.s OF DENMARK.

A Dane once brought to his country a beautiful he-a.s.s from Andalusia, and the animal was exhibited as a curiosity in all the towns. An innkeeper of a place between Hamburg and Lubeck took it for a sign; he had it painted, and hung the sign at the door of his inn, with the inscription, 'The a.s.s of Denmark;' and the good accommodation of the inn rendered it famous.

Many years after, the Prince of Denmark, in pa.s.sing by that place, took lodging there. The honour was so highly appreciated by the innkeeper that he begged the prince to allow him to take his portrait for a sign, and this was granted him. Another innkeeper immediately bought the well-known sign of the a.s.s, and by this means attracted to his inn all travellers. The other then perceived his want of foresight; and in order to remedy it, he had written at the foot of the portrait of the Prince of Denmark, '_This is the original a.s.s._'

ETHEL'S ORANGE-PLANT.

'My little orange-tree is coming up! It has put out two leaves since yesterday!' said Ethel, joyously, as she put the precious pot on the rustic table in the arbour, which in the summer holidays was the favourite sitting-room of Ethel and her sister May. 'I am so glad. I wonder when it will begin to bear oranges,' and Ethel already saw, in imagination, the tiny shoot, with its twin green leaves, growing into a bushy tree, weighed down with golden fruit!

'Here comes May,' she continued. 'May, May! isn't it nice? My orange has two leaves!'

May, however, was in no humour to rejoice with her little sister. Her orange-pip, planted at the same time, showed no signs of life whatever, and now to hear of Ethel's plant putting forth leaves was too much; and so her only answer was to say crossly, 'What have you brought the stupid thing here for? I want the table for my sc.r.a.p-book.'

'Oh, let it stop,' pleaded little Ethel. 'The sun always leaves the schoolroom window at ten o'clock, and orange-trees want so much sun.

There is plenty of room for your desk and the pot.'

May did not answer, but she pettishly pushed the plant to one side, and placed her sc.r.a.p-book on the table with a bang.

'There is not room,' she said at last; 'where is my desk to go with that great plant blocking up everything? Take it back to the schoolroom, Ethel,' and not looking at the plant, she carelessly pushed it to one side--too much to one side, for it fell to the ground and was broken to pieces, the heavy sc.r.a.p-book falling on top of it.

'Oh, my plant! my beautiful plant is broken!' cried Ethel. 'I shall never see the oranges grow on it,' and she covered her face with her hands and sobbed bitterly.

'What is the matter? Are you hurt, dear?' asked her mother, hurrying up from a flower-bed where she was planting out seedlings.

'It's the orange-plant!' sobbed Ethel; 'but May did not mean to break it,' she added loyally.

'Oh, dear, what a pity!' said Mrs. Randen, as she carefully lifted the plant in its broken pot, and placed it on the table. 'How came you to be so careless, May?'

'I--I don't know,' stammered May, and she turned away feeling ashamed and miserable, for her conscience told her it was scarcely an accident, for she meant to be rough with the plant, though perhaps she had hardly meant to break it.

'How could I do it?' she asked herself, as she threw herself on the schoolroom sofa, and burst into tears. 'Ethel is so good, too; how horrid I must be to have grudged her pleasure in her plant, even though mine is dead.'

She raised her eyes to the window, where stood her pot, and there, to her amazement, she saw a tender little leaf pushing through the dark soil. It was not dead then! Quick as thought she jumped up, seized the pot, and flew down to the arbour.

'My plant is coming up, and you must have it, Ethel, because I am so very sorry I broke yours,' she said eagerly. 'Take it, do, and say you forgive me.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "May turned away, feeling ashamed and miserable."]

'Oh, May, you could not help it,' said Ethel, drying her eyes, and trying to smile, 'and I won't take your plant. I am very glad it is coming up.'

'You must have it,' said May firmly. 'I shall never like it unless it is yours; it will always remind me of a horrid day,' ended up May, somewhat lamely, for she could not say how guilty she felt in the matter.

So Ethel had the plant, and nursed it so well that in days to come it really did produce a small orange, and this time May was the first to rejoice with her sister.

ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.

True Anecdotes.

IV.--CURIOUS CUPBOARDS.

The inborn wisdom which Providence gives animals for their good is clearly shown by something very like forethought about food supplies, an instinct which tells creatures to lay by 'for a rainy day.' It is less strongly marked among the winged races, because they prefer to fly in search of fresh supplies when the old fail, and seldom provide cupboards or larders at home. Yet there are birds that make stores.

After a full meal many of the crow tribe, including the raven, rook, and jackdaw, will put away and h.o.a.rd what is left. A magpie once paid me a visit, perching on an ash-tree, the boughs of which almost brushed against my bedroom window. Very early one morning he awoke me by calling out his own name, together with a lot of chattering, the meaning of which appeared to be that 'Maggie' was both hungry and thirsty. He was tame and talkative, and had clearly escaped from somewhere. I placed a saucer of milk and bread, with a dish of meat, cut up, and another of fresh water, on the sill of the open window, and soon had the pleasure of seeing my guest making a hearty meal. After eating till he could eat no more, he took a splendid bath out of the water-dish, muttering hoa.r.s.ely all the while, and strutting up and down as he eyed the remaining meat, which he felt unable to swallow. From time to time he cast a cunning look my way, as if to hint politely that he wished to be alone. 'Go about your business, do,' I thought the look said; so I went out, shut the door, and watched him through the keyhole. With much chuckling Maggie then laid his plans, and carried them out.

That night, on going to bed, I found several lumps of meat hidden under my pillow; a further search revealed a second layer beneath the bolster.

A few bits were crammed into c.h.i.n.ks round the window-sashes, and the rest was concealed in various convenient spots. There Maggie had placed them to await the time when they should be wanted. He himself roosted on one leg in the ash-tree, looking like a feather mop, and was spared the grief of seeing his h.o.a.rds discovered. But, in spite of the hidden store, he roused me at dawn the next morning by shrill screams for breakfast.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "His playful habit of pulling out the pegs."]

I knew Maggie would be claimed by somebody, and sure enough a woman, who had tracked him by his voice, soon came and asked leave to 'call him back.' But Maggie refused to come, and as the idea of a cage for any living creature is distasteful to me, I was glad to arrange for his free board and lodging in the tree near my window. I found that at his old quarters, one of a row of cottages hard by, he had kept things lively by his playful habit of watching the neighbours hang out their clean linen in the back yards, getting loose from his cage, pouncing down on the clothes-lines, pulling out the pegs, and chuckling with glee when all the 'wash' fell down in the dirt, and had to be done over again.

Dogs and cats, as descendants of wild races, still keep a trace of the old customs of their ancestors. Who does not know the anxious look with which a well-fed pet dog will dig a hole and bury a bone that he does not happen to want, as if he had an old age in the workhouse to dread? I have seen a little Yorkshire terrier go the round of the dinner-table, sit up and beg piteously, pretending that 'the smallest trifle is most thankfully received,' look carefully round, and, thinking that no one saw him, bury those trifles under the hearthrug, and return for more.

The habit is not so common in cats, but I have known more than one puss do the same thing. One little tabby, found in the snow on my doorstep, would play with a piece of meat as if it were a mouse, make believe to kill it, and then hide it away under the edge of the carpet, with a great show of sniffing and sc.r.a.ping, as if to make sure that no other cat could scent it out. She had once been nearly starved, and so had learnt prudence.