One day when the Scotch king, Robert Bruce, lay sick and discouraged in a lonely shed, he watched the patient efforts of a spider to repair its web.  Six times she tried to throw the frail thread from one beam to another, and six times she failed.

“Six times have I been beaten in battle,” said Bruce.  “I know how to pity that poor spider.”

But the spider was not discouraged.  A seventh time she flung her thread, and this time she succeeded in fastening it to the beam.

Bruce sprang to his feet.  “I will try once more,” he said, and went forth to victory.  Since that day, the story goes, no member of the family of Bruce will injure a spider.

THE WOODMOUSE.

Do you know the little woodmouse,
   That pretty little thing,
That sits among the forest leaves,
   Or by the forest spring? 
Its fur is red like the chestnut,
   And it is small and slim,
It leads a life most innocent,
   Within the forest dim.

It makes a bed of the soft, dry moss,
   In a hole that’s deep and strong,
And there it sleeps secure and warm,
   The dreary winter long;
And though it keeps no calendar,
   It knows when flowers are springing,
And it waketh to its summer life,
   When nightingales are singing. 
                       Mary Howitt.

A MOUSE’S STORY.

Men call me a thief.  I wonder if they are right.  I used to live in the fields, and I found nuts and acorns in the woods for my little family.  Then a man came.  He dug up my field and planted his own crops.  He destroyed my home and killed my little children.  He said that the nuts were his, and the field, too, was his.  I thought they were mine.

Now I have to live on what I can find near his house.  I am sure I eat a great deal that he would not care for.  Usually I am half-starved.  It seems to me as if the world were big enough for me to have a corner of it in peace.

I dare say the man thinks that he is wholly in the right.  He says I am very troublesome, and he sets a trap every night to catch me.  One night I was caught by the paw, and held for hours in an agony of fright and pain.  I have been lame ever since.  He would have been kinder if he had killed me outright.

There is another dreadful trap which does not hurt at all at first, and it is often used for this reason.  There is a little door which opens easily, and you find yourself in a wire house.  There you starve to death, unless some one comes to drown you.  If we are to be caught in traps, I wish that we might be put out of pain at once.

WISE RATS.

Rats are clever and intelligent, and in their way are very useful.  In large cities they eat the garbage which collects in harbors and at the mouths of drains.  This would cause sickness if it were not removed.