Almost all performing animals are treated so cruelly while they are being trained, and go through with their tricks in so much fear, that it is quite sad to see them.  But the best thing about Minos’s wonderful performances is, that they were all taught him by love and gentleness.

Remember this, boys, when you are trying to teach Dash or Carlo to fetch and carry, or draw your wagon:  there is no teacher so good as love.

ELIZABETH SILL.

[Illustration]

  GRANDMA’S GARDEN.

  This is the way; here is the gate,
    This little creaking wicket;
  Here robin calls his truant mate
    From out the lilac-thicket. 
  The walks are bordered all with box,—­
    Oh! come this way a minute;
  The snowball-bush, beyond the phlox,
    Has chippy’s nest hid in it. 
  Look at this mound of blooming pinks,
    This balm, these mountain daisies;
  And can you guess what grandma thinks
    The sweetest thing she raises? 
  You’re wrong, it’s not the violet,
    Nor yet this pure white lily: 
  It is this straggling mignonette,—­
    I know you think it silly,—­
  But hear my story; then, perhaps,
    You’ll freely grant me pardon. 
  (See how the spiders set their traps
    All over grandma’s garden.)
  Long since I had a little friend,
    Dear as your darling sister,
  And she from over sea, did send
    This token, ere Death kissed her: 
  ’Twas in a box, a tiny slip,
    With word just how to set it: 
  And now I kiss its fragrant tip,—­
    You see I can’t forget it.

[Illustration]

  Well, here I get thyme, sage, and mint,
    Sweet marjoram and savory;
  (Cook says they always give a hint
    Of summer, rich and flavory);
  Here’s caraway—­take, if you will: 
    Fennel and coriander
  Hang over beds of daffodil,
    And myrtles close meander. 
  What’s next to come, one may not know—­
    But then I like surprises: 
  Just here, where tender roses blow,
    A tiger-lily rises. 
  Here cock’s-comb flaunts, and columbine
    Stands shaded by sweetbrier,
  And marigolds and poppies shine
    Like beds of glowing fire. 
  A group of honest sunflowers tall
    Keep sentry in yon corner;
  And close beside them on the wall,
    The peacock, strutting scorner,
  Spreads out his rainbow plumes alone,
    Or stoops to pick a berry,
  Where briers climb the mossy stone
    Beneath those clumps of cherry. 
  Now we’ll turn back:  you’ve seen but few
    Of my old-fashioned beauties,
  But take away a nosegay new
    To cheer you at your duties;
  Take pansies and forget-me-nots;
    Pluck pinks, bluebells, and roses,
  And tell me if you know a spot
    Where flourish fairer posies. 
  Grandma herself no lovelier ground
    This side of paradise has found.