eeps a good deal."

UNCLE CHARLES.

THE STROLLING BEAR.

IN St. Paul, one day last winter, a big black bear was seen strolling
along on the sidewalk on Third Street. He seemed to be quite at his
ease, and would stop now and then, and look in at the shop-windows.

Half a dozen men and boys soon gathered behind him, following him at a
safe distance. Others, going up and down the street, would stop to
learn the cause of the crowd, and perhaps join it, so that they might
see the end of the fun.

[Illustration]

For a while, Bruin did not seem to care much for the crowd. But they
grew to be pretty free in their speech, calling out to him, "Does your
mother know you're out?" "Will you take a glass of whiskey?" and making
other rude remarks. Bruin stood it for a while, then turned fiercely
upon the crowd, who scattered at once, some running into shops, and
others down the side-streets.

This free-and-easy bear then continued his stroll. But the crowd behind
him grew larger and larger, and he again turned upon them, and made them
run, all laughing and shouting, in various directions.

At last, as if he had had enough of this kind of fun, he quickened his
pace, driving five or six fellows into a saloon, while he followed close
at their heels. The boys on the other side of the street laughed at
this: so he crossed the street quickly, and put them to flight; and the
way they all ran was fun for those near the saloon, who were now the
laughers, in their turn.

At last, a man with whom Bruin was well acquainted, and on good terms,
came up, with a chain in his hand, and threw it about the bear's neck;
and then, as if he had had quite enough of a stroll, Bruin quietly
followed his guide, and was led back to his owner.

ALFRED SELWYN.

THE PARROT AND THE SPARROW.

AT the "Jardin des Plantes," a famous garden and museum in Paris, there
was once a parrot that took a great fancy to a little wild sparrow.

Every morning, the little bird would fly to the parrot's perch; and
there it would sit almost all day by the side of its great friend.
Sometimes the parrot would raise his unchained claw, and the sparrow
would perch upon it.

Jacquot,--that was the parrot's name,--holding the sparrow at the end of
his claw, would turn his head on one side, and gaze fondly on the little
bird, which would flap its wings in answer