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they forage for themselves, and eat worms, roots, and insects, only they cannot live without water. They are very fond of lettuces. A friend of mine had one in her house for many years, and it was very tame, and much attached to a large black Newfoundland dog. The dog had learnt to take it up carefully in its mouth and carry it all over the house and garden. When they reached the place of their destination, the dog put it down gently and stood wagging his tail, with his eyes fixed affectionately on it, until the hedge-hog uncurled itself and ran about beside him. He always took his little friend back to the kitchen when he thought it was time to go. It is a very pretty sight to see one of these animals with four or five little ones. They are born blind like kittens, and at first their spikes are white and soft. They become hard in a day or two, but it is some time before their muscles are strong enough to let them make little balls of themselves.

In a wild state they sleep a great deal during the day, and go out to seek their food at night; but when the cold weather comes, they dig deep holes in the earth, line them with moss and leaves, and then they make up their minds to do without food, and lie still in their warm little beds until spring comes again.

One very cold day a hedgehog which was half dead with cold, begged a snake to let him come into his hole in the ground. The snake at last said yes. No sooner had the hedgehog got in, than his prickles made his new friend very uncomfortable, upon which the snake asked him to go and look for another lodging for himself, as she found on trial, the little room

was not large enough for both of them. "Nay," said the hedgehog, "let them that are uneasy in their situation, change it; for my own part, I am very well contented where I am, if you are not, you are welcome to remove whenever you think proper."

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Happy the man whose wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air

In his own ground.

a-cres

a-cres

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire ;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter, fire.

Blest who can unconcernedly find

Hours, days, and years, glide soft away

In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixed; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

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I was walking in the People's Park in Liverpool, one day, with my two little girls, when we saw a dragon-fly resting on the gravel footpath, beating its wings, and seeming as if it had been slightly hurt somehow or other. As its wings moved backwards and forwards in the sunshine, they caught the light, and

showed all the pretty colours you see in the rainbow, purple and blue and green, and silvery white over all.

The two little girls cried out in their pleasure at the sight of the beautiful insect, and stooped down to look at it more closely, but I called them away, and told them to try to look as if nothing was there, for a short distance from the place where we were standing, two young boys were playing with their balls, and I knew that little boys are often very cruel, and was afraid they might see nothing in the dragon-fly but a thing to torment.

So we moved slowly away not looking back, until we were about a hundred yards off, and when we did look back, what we saw was this. The two boys had run up to the place where they had seen us standing, and one of them was bending over the dragon-fly just as we had done the minute before, and looking earnestly at the gay colours on its wings. The other boy was impatient to get his play-fellow back to their game of ball, and I heard him beg him to come

away.

"In a minute," cried the other, "just stop till I'm done," and so saying, he drew his foot harshly along the gravel, crushed the poor insect to death under it, and then feeling he was "done," went away to play under the trees, without one thought of regret for the life he had taken.

And yet when God gave that little insect its life, He made it capable of feeling pleasure and pain, just in the same way that little boys and girls do. It was as happy fluttering about in the sunshine, as they are

playing with their balls, hoops, and skipping ropes, and when that cruel boy killed it from mere love of destruction, no doubt it felt a sharp pain. Perhaps though he was too dull and cruel to be sorry for cutting all its delight in living short, he might not have killed it if he had thought of the pain it would suffer. But because these poor little insects die silently, uttering no sound, boys either imagine they feel nothing, or the thought of their suffering does not come home to them. If it had uttered a loud cry of pain in dying, he would have known what he was doing, and I hope have been sorry, and have taken care never to be so cruel again.

If every child who reads this, makes up his mind to try never to hurt or teaze any living thing again, there will be a little less of what is wrong in the world.

17.—THE WORM.

re-quire-d par-tion

be-stow-ed

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Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,

Nor crush that helpless worm!

The frame thy wayward looks deride,
Required a God to form.

re-ceive

re-ceive

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