Bob-a-link! Bob-a-link!

Now what do you think?
Who stole a nest away
From the plum tree to-day?

Coo Coo Coo coo! Coo coo!
Let me speak a word, too.
Who stole that pretty nest
From little yellow breast?

Not I, said the sheep; O, no,
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so.
I gave wool the nest to line,
But the nest was none of mine.
Baa baa! said the sheep; O, no,
I wouldn't treat a poor bird so.

To whit! To whit! To whee!
Will you listen to me?
Who stole four eggs I laid,
And the nice nest I made?

Bob-a-link! Bob-a-link!
Now what do you think?
Who stole a nest away
From the plum tree to-day?

Coo Coo Coo coo! Coo coo!
Let me speak a word, too.
Who stole that pretty nest
From little yellow breast?

Caw! caw! cried the crow,
I should like to know,
What thief took away
A bird's nest to-day?

Cluck, cluck, said the hen,
Don't ask me again.

Why, I haven't a chick

Would do such a trick.

We all gave her a feather,

And she wove them together.
I'd scorn to intrude

On her and her brood.

Cluck, cluck, said the hen,

Don't ask me again.

Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr !
We will make a great stir!
Let us find out his name,
And all cry, For shame!

I would not rob a bird,
Said little Mary Green;

I think I never heard

Of any thing so mean.

"Tis very cruel, too,

Said little Alice Neal;

I wonder if he knew

How sad the bird would feel?

A little boy hung down his head,
And went and hid behind the bed ;
For he stole that pretty nest
From poor little yellow breast;

And he felt so full of shame,
He didn't like to tell his name.

3

XVIII. THE RAM AND THE MIRROR.

MANY years ago there lived in Scotland a nobleman whose name was Lord Melville. In Europe there is a class of persons called noblemen, who have titles of honor which were bestowed upon them, or some ancestor of theirs, because they were distinguished as soldiers, statesmen, or orators. These titles descend from father to son. In our country there are no noblemen; and we have no honors or titles but such as a man earns for himself.

Lord Melville was a man high in station, and assisted in the government of the country. In the summer season he lived in a large, fine house, a few miles from Edinburgh, called Melville Castle, where a great many ladies and gentlemen used to come and see him. He was a very good-natured man; and one of the ways he had of showing his good nature was by his fondness for animals.

At one time he made a pet of a ram, which was called Will, which grew very tame, and used to follow his master all over the house and about the grounds. One day, in the early part of September, he had invited a large party of ladies and gentlemen to dine with him. When the hour drew near at which his guests were expected, he went into the drawing room to see that all things were in order; after which he passed by the front door, which he thoughtlessly left open.

Will was sauntering about the outside of the house, panting with the heat; but seeing the front door open, he stepped in, and as the drawing room door was also open, he at once went forward into it. At the farther end of the room there was an uncommonly large and beautiful mirror, which cost nearly a thousand dollars. It had been bought at the sale of the furniture of a Spanish ambassador* who was leaving London, and was such a mirror as money could hardly replace.

* Ambassador, a person sent by a king or president to reside in another country, to protect the interests of the state from which he comes.

Will was a black-faced ram, with large, curled horns. No sooner did he see his own image in the glass, than he took it to be a rival challenging him to fight. He stamped with his foot, snorted with his nose, throwing up his head with an air of haughty defiance. The likeness in the glass, of course, did the same. Will accepted the challenge, and stepping back as far as he could, ran forward with all his force, and struck the mirror a most tremendous blow, shivering it into a thousand pieces.

Lord Melville was standing at the front door when he heard the dreadful crash of the glass. He came running in, saw the havoc that was made, and easily judged how it had been done. Will was standing on the floor, shaking his head, and looking much surprised at the sudden disappearance of his foe. His master was very angry for a moment, but remembering that the poor beast had only obeyed a natural instinct, and that he himself had been to blame in leaving the outer door open, he soon got over it, and contented himself with saying, “Ah, Will, you little know what mischief you have done." After dinner, he told the story to his guests, and they all had a good laugh over the accident.

In due time, Will went the way appointed to all animals of his kind, and fell under the butcher's knife. One of his horns was made into a spoon, and the other into a snuff box. This snuff box was mounted with silver, and had a Scotch pebble, or crystal, set in the lid. These articles were given to Mr. Pitt, who was at that time prime minister* of England, and an intimate friend of Lord Melville. The snuff box was often produced after dinner, and the story told of Will's encounter with the mirror.

But we have not come to the end of the story yet. The Spanish ambassador, at whose sale the mirror had been bought, had

Prime minister. The men whom the king, or queen, of England selects to govern the country are called ministers, or the ministry; the chief among them is the prime minister.

gone home to his own country, and was there one of the king's ministers. Mr. Pitt once had occasion to write him a despatch on public business, and he sent, at the same time, a private letter, in which he told him how the mirror which once belonged to him had been smashed by Lord Melville's ram. The ambassador read the letter to the king, who was much diverted by the story, and said that Lord Melville should have another Spanish mirror as good as that which had been destroyed. So he sent him a very fine one from one of his own palaces. After it had arrived, Mr. Pitt gave the king the snuff box which had been made from Will's horn. And so ends the story of Lord Melville's ram.

X

XIX. THE PET LAMB.

WORDSWORTH.

THE dew was falling fast; the stars began to blink;

I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink ;'
And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied

A snow-white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side.

No other sheep were near; the lamb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;
With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,
While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal.

The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, Seemed to feast with head and ears, and his tail with pleasure

shook ;

"Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said, in such a tone

That I almost received her heart into my own.

'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare! I watched them with delight; they were a lovely pair.

*Despatch, a letter written on public business.