n good and not run away."

"Why, here's Brownie!" cried Grace's voice. "The hawk did not get him
after all. Come, Willie, and help me drive him to the hen-house."

"I hope, my dear, you will never be so very naughty again," said Mrs.
Speckle, as he crept under her wing.

MRS. B.P. SIBLEY.

[Illustration: Hen and Chicks]

A MISJUDGED FRIEND.

The gardener shut the garden gate,
And went to weed the onion-bed:
The growing plants stood tall and straight;
"But what is this?" surprised he said.
Some broken bricks, some stones and sticks,
And underneath them, crushed and dead,
A large brown toad! "James, Martin, Fred!"
He called three little boys, who played
Near by, beneath a pear-tree's shade,
And sternly asked, "What cruel play
Is this you've been about to-day?"

"'Tis very hard we should be blamed,
I'm sure!" poor little James exclaimed:
"We only killed the toad because
An ugly-looking thing he was,--
So very ugly, that we knew
He surely would some mischief do.
He had great warts upon his back,
And curious blotches, greenish black,
And darting tongue, and strange flat head"--
"And how he sprawled his legs!" cried Fred.
"His mouth," said Martin, "was so wide,
It reached far round on either side;
And queer winks with his eyes he'd give:
We did not dare to let him live.
We had to kill that toad because
An ugly-looking thing he was."

The gardener gravely shook his head;
"It was a heartless act," he said;
"And, more than that, you may depend
Upon my word, you've killed a friend;
For often, at my work, I've found
This same toad near me, hopping round,
And, watching him, I've learned that he
My constant helper used to be,--
A second gardener, with no pay,
Who still was busy every day.

"He killed the young potato-bugs,
The caterpillars, and the slugs,
The beetles striped with yellow lines,
That spoil the tender melon-vines,
And looked round with his blinking eyes
For cabbage-worms and turnip-flies,
Low-flying moths with downy wings,
And slimy snails in shady nooks.
It was the cruellest of things
To kill poor Hop Toad for his looks.

"And if, when you shall older grow,
You strangers judge by outward show,
You'll be as foolish as unjust:
In worthless men you'll put your trust,
And often