n
came into the yard, to find all doors shut, and no shelter left for her
but the bough of a leafless tree. Too stiff and weak to fly up, she
crept as close as possible to the bright glow which shone across the
door-step, and with a shiver put her little head under her wing, trying
to forget hunger, weariness, and the bitter cold, and wait patiently for
morning. But when morning came, little Blot lay frozen stiff under a
coverlet of snow: and the tender-hearted children sighed as they dug a
grave for the last of the unfortunate family of the Clucks.

_A CURIOUS CALL._

I have often wondered what the various statues standing about the city
think of all day, and what criticisms they would make upon us and our
doings, if they could speak. I frequently stop and stare at them,
wondering if they don't feel lonely; if they wouldn't be glad of a nod
as we go by; and I always long to offer my umbrella to shield their
uncovered heads on a rainy day, especially to good Ben Franklin, when
the snow lies white on his benevolent forehead. I was always fond of
this old gentleman; and one of my favourite stories when a little girl,
was that of his early life, and the time when he was so poor he walked
about Philadelphia with a roll of bread under each arm, eating a third
as he went. I never pass without giving him a respectful look, and
wishing he could know how grateful I am for all he had done in the
printing line; for, without types and presses, where would the books be?

Well, I never imagined that he understood why the tall woman in the big
bonnet stared at him; but he did, and he liked it, and managed to let me
know it in a very curious manner, as you shall hear.

As I look out, the first thing I see is the great gilt eagle on the
City-Hall dome. There he sits, with open wings, all day long, looking
down on the people, who must appear like ants scampering busily to and
fro about an ant-hill. The sun shines on him splendidly in the morning;
the gay flag waves and rustles in the wind above him sometimes; and the
moonlight turns him to silver when she comes glittering up the sky.
When it rains he never shakes his feathers; snow beats on him without
disturbing his stately repose; and he never puts his head under his wing
at night, but keeps guard in darkness as in day, like a faithful
sentinel. I like the big, lonely bird, call him my particular fowl, and
often wish he'd turn his head and speak to me. One night he did actua