you could play with it, like Kitty, when you were a pup,
but it must be a long time now since you've seen it.

"It's rather rude of you, Mr. Pug, to lie down with your back to me,
and a grunt, but I know you don't mean it.

"I wanted to hug you, Toby, because I do thank you for giving me such
good advice, and I know every word of it's true.

"I mean to try hard to follow it, and I'll tell you what I shall do.

"Nurse wants to put bitter stuff on the tips of my fingers, to cure me
of biting them, and now I think I shall let her.

"I know they're not fit to be seen, but she says they would soon
become better.

"I mean to keep my hands behind my back a good deal till they're well,
and to hold my head up, and turn out my toes; and every time I give
way to one of my tricks, I shall go and stand (_on both legs_) before
the picture, and confess it to great-great-grand-mamma.

"Just fancy if I've no tricks left this time next year, Toby! Won't
that show how clever we are?

"I for trying so hard to do what I'm told, and you for being so wise
that people will say--'That sensible pug cured that silly little girl
when not even her mother could mend her.'

"----Ah! Bad Dog! Where are you slinking off to?--Oh, Toby, darling!
do, _do_ take a little of your own good advice, and try to cure
yourself of lying in the fender!"

THE OWL IN THE IVY BUSH.

OR, THE CHILDREN'S BIRD OF WISDOM.

INTRODUCTION.

"Hoot toots, man, yon's a queer bird!"

--_Bonnie Scotland._

I am an Owl; a very fluffy one, in spite of all that that Bad Boy
pulled out! I live in an Ivy Bush. Children are nothing to me,
naturally, so it seems strange that I should begin, at my time of
life, to observe their little ways and their humors, and to give them
good advice.

And yet it is so. I am the Friend of Young People. In my flight abroad
I watch them. As I sit meditating in my Ivy Bush, it is their little
matters which I turn over in my fluffy head. I have established a
letter box for their communications at the Hole in the Tree. No other
address will find me.

It is well known that I am a Bird of Wisdom. I am also an Observing
Bird; and though my young friends may think I see less than I do,
because of my blinking, and because I detest that vulgar glare of
bright light without which some persons do not seem able to see what
goes on around them, I would have children to know that if I can
blink on occasion, and am not apt to let every