So Finnette would stand on her hind legs and sing such a droll little tune. It sounded like "I love--I love--I love--do you?" Finnette always helped Winny to put her dolls to bed. It was wonderful to see her.

"Bring me Grandma Snowhair's cap, Finnette," Winny would say. And Finnette would trot off and fetch it. She knew the doll's clothes just as well as Winny did.

"Now, Finnette, I will have Glorianna's nightgown," said Winny again, and Finnette would bring it.

When Winny got her dolls in bed, she always sang them to sleep, and then Finnette would sing too. "I love--I love--I love--do you?"

Mamma used to like to peep in and see them. Winny always put her dolls to bed at five o'clock. Finnette always knew when the clock struck five, and off she would run to find Winny.

But one day she couldn't find her. She searched through the house and garden, but Winny was not to be found. So Finnette lay down in the library, and waited. Once she got up and trotted in and looked at the dolls. She barked softly, as though she would say, "Be patient; your mamma will be here soon."

But the little mamma did not come; so Finnette concluded to put the dolls to bed herself. She laid Grandma Snowhair on the floor and then with her teeth and paws she gently drew off her cap and gray silk dress. She put on her nightgown, but she could not b.u.t.ton it.

She undressed Glorianna, but she got her nightgown on upside down. She put her legs into the sleeves. She did not try to put on aunt Sukey's nightgown. She just wrapped her up in a blanket.

She tumbled the four small dolls into their beds anyhow. How surprised and pleased and amused Winny was when she came home! There were the dolls fast asleep, and their clothes all piled on a chair; and there sat Finnette watching them. She gave the happiest little "bow-wow,"

when she saw Winny. She had not been able to eat or to sleep with the care of all those dolls on her mind. Winny hugged and kissed her.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THERE STOOD--FINNETTE!]

"You dear old darling Finnette," she said. "How sweet you have been to my children. You shall have a silver collar, for you are my best friend." Then Bridget brought Finnette her supper of bread and milk.

ABOUT THE DEER.

"Look! look!" said Ernest, "see the deer! It has got out of the deer park. I did not know deer could run like that!"

The frightened creature was running down Washington street. He darted in and out among the horses and carriages, and people. He leaped over the heads of the children.

Ernest and his mother stopped to look; everybody stopped to look. On and on he ran till he came to the river, then he leaped into the deep water and was drowned. Was it not a pity? The pretty deer that Ernest had fed so often on Boston Common! He almost cried when he thought of it.

How many of you have ever seen deer? In many of the United States they are still found in the woods. They are kept in almost all public parks.

Deer are gentle creatures, and are easily tamed. But I think they are happiest when they are free to roam the woods where they like.

They eat the tender gra.s.s in the spring, and sometimes, if they live near farms, they break into the corn and wheat fields.

In the winter they eat the seed vessels of the wild rose, the hawthorn buds, the brambles and leaves. They like acorns, and, in the South, they eat the persimmons. The persimmon is a yellow plum. They feed in the night.

In hot summer days they like to wade into the ponds and rivers, and stand under water, all but their noses.

The young deer are called fawns; they are pretty spotted creatures.

The mother keeps them in a quiet place where she thinks the hunters and dogs cannot get them; for men often hunt the wild deer. It is a great pity to kill them for sport, is it not?

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOW FLEET HE IS!]

The deer hears quickly, and his scent is very keen too. When the hunters are after him, how fleet he is! Sometimes he leaps into the water and swims. Then the dogs lose the scent and cannot follow him.

The male deer sheds his horns every year.

When the horns are growing they look as if they were covered with velvet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HAVE THEY NO LANGUAGE?]

[Ill.u.s.tration: {A DOG LYING DOWN.}]

EVERYBODY'S DOG.

Seen me? Of course you have seen me before.

I can't count the times I have been at your door.

Where do I live? Why, everywhere, here!

My name? Well, I own it is rather queer; Some call me "good fellow," or "Fido," or "Tray,"

But I come just the same, whatever they say.

Am I ever lonesome? How can I be When acquaintances everywhere whistle to me?

Hungry? That's something I've never yet known, For friendly hands toss me sweet bits or a bone.

Cold? Oh, never! for doors everywhere Are opened to shelter my silky brown hair, For _I_ am everybody's dog!

And what do I give for this treatment so kind?

I drive home the lost cattle and sheep that I find; With the children and babies I tenderly play, And faithfully keep them from going astray.

And many an ill-natured tramp I have sent Away from the game on which he was bent.

I can carry a basket or pail just the same As a boy, and better than some I could name.

I bark in the night when danger is near, And if I'm in the house no sleeper need fear.

What! be your own dog? Do you think 'twould be fair To stay here with you when they all need my care?

No; I'll come every day for a minute or two But now I must go for I've so much to do; For _I_ am everybody's dog!

A BIRD'S NEST.

What a wonderful thing a bird's nest is! Even the simplest nests are very wonderful. Some boys and girls collect birds' nests, and that is very well, if you wait till the eggs are hatched, and the birds have flown.

The ground sparrow builds a lovely little nest; and what a curious nest is that of the barn swallow.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A WEAVER BIRD AND HER NEST.]

How many of you have seen the nest of the Baltimore oriole? She hangs it upon the end of an elm branch, where it swings and dances in the wind.

I have for you this time, the nest of an African bird. This little bird belongs to the cla.s.s called weavers. If you look at the nest, you will understand why this bird is called a weaver bird.

See how skilfully the nest is woven out of twigs, and gra.s.ses, and fibrous roots. There are many kinds of weaver birds, and each kind builds a different nest. Sometime I shall show you another weaver bird's nest.