begged of us as we passed.

And now I will tell you a little story--something very simple in
itself, but which I hope will serve to impress this chapter upon your
memories.

MABEL HOWARD AND HER PET.

Mabel Howard, my little heroine, was not exactly an English girl,
though she was the daughter of English parents. She was born in India,
in Calcutta, where her father, Colonel Howard, was stationed for
several years with his regiment. Mabel was not, I am sorry to say, a
bright and blooming little maiden, though she had a sweet, intelligent
face, and very endearing ways. From her birth, she had been pale,
slight, and feeble. The climate was very bad for her; and, though all
possible pains were taken with her health, she did not gain strength,
but grew weaker and weaker. At last, when she was about nine years of
age, it was resolved to send her to England, to stay with her
grandparents, who lived in London. Neither her papa nor her mamma
could go with her; but Katuka, her ayah, or native nurse, a kind,
faithful woman, would go and stay with her always, and a friend of
Colonel Howard, an officer returning home, would take charge of them
both till they should reach London.

Poor Mabel's loving little heart was almost broken at the thought of
being sent so far away from her papa and mamma and baby-brother; but
she knew it was all meant for her good, and did not complain.

Of all Mabel's pets, she loved best a beautiful red and white cockatoo,
that her papa had given her on her seventh birthday.

Bobby--for so this favorite was called--was a very knowing bird
indeed--talking fluently, if not wisely, in both English and
Hindostanee; and though somewhat vain of his beauty and
accomplishments, and a little too selfish and fond of good living,
never arrogant or surly, but the most gracious and amiable of cockatoos.

Bobby had a fine gilded cage, which hung in a shaded veranda, where the
family sat in the cool morning and evening hours; so, when not talking,
or talked to himself, he picked up a good deal of knowledge by
listening to the conversation of others.

Everybody liked Bobby, he was so clever and comical; but Mabel not only
liked and petted him, but cared for him constantly; patiently
ministered to his dainty appetite, and tried always to teach him good
and useful things. Indeed, I am afraid that, if it had not been for
his young mistress, Bobby would have been a wicked little heathen, like
other Hindoo co