GEORGE COOPER.

THE SOLDIER-DOG.

I have been reading in “The Nursery” the story about Mellie Hoyt and his dog Major.  My papa often tells me about another good old dog, named Major.  He was a soldier-dog, that papa knew when he went to the war.

Major was a kind dog to all his friends; but he would bark at strangers, and sometimes he would bite them.  He once tried to bite a steam-engine as it came whistling by; but the engine knocked him off the track, and almost killed him.  He had never seen a steam-engine before, and he knew better than to attack one after that.  But he was not afraid of any thing else.

When the soldiers went out to battle, Major would go with them, and bark and growl all the time.  Once, in a battle way down in Louisiana, Major began to bark and growl as usual, and to stand up on his hind-legs.  Then he ran around, saying, “Ki-yi, ki-yi.”  By and by he saw a cowardly soldier, who was running away; and he seized that soldier by the leg, and would not let him go for a long time.  He wanted him to go back and fight.

Soon after this, Major began to jump up in the air, trying to bite the bullets that whistled over his head.  When a bullet struck the ground, he would run and try to dig it out with his paws.  At last he placed himself right in front of an advancing line of soldiers, as much as to say, “Don’t come any further!” He seemed to think that he could drive them back all alone.

By and by a bullet hit Major as he was jumping about; and he dropped down dead.  The soldiers all felt sad, and some of them cried.  They missed him like one of their comrades, and they had many to mourn for in that dreadful battle.  I hope there never will be another war.

PINKY.

PORTLAND, ME.

[Illustration]

THE SURPRISE.

“Whose hands are over your eyes?  Guess quick.”

“Old Mother Hubbard’s?”

“Wrong:  guess again.”

“The good fairy’s, Teenty Tawnty?”

“There are no fairies in this part of the country, and you know it.  Guess again.”

“Well, I guess it is the old woman that lived in a shoe.”

“She is not in these parts.  I will give you one more chance.  Who is it?”

“I think it must be little Miss Muffit,—­the one who was frightened by a spider.”

“Nonsense!  One would think you had read nothing but ’Mother Goose’s Melodies.’”

“Can it be Tom, Tom, the piper’s son?”

“No, I never stole a pig in my life.  Now give the right name this time, or prepare to have your ears pulled.”

“Oh, that would never do!  I think it must be my cousin, Jenny Mason, who is hiding the daylight from me.”

“Right!  Right at last!  One kiss, and you may go.”

IDA FAY.

[Illustration]

LITTLE PEDRO.

Pedro is a little Italian boy, who lives in Chicago.  When I first knew him, he was roaming about from house to house, playing on the fiddle, and singing.