CROSS dog Rover was certainly not, though he could be provoked and get angry on fitting occasions. Little Harry and Julia were extremely fond of him, and showed their fondness by taking all sorts of liberties with him, which, had he been of an irritable nature, would certainly have resulted in a growl on his part; but he displayed the utmost patience in their hands, and I think, even complacency and pleasure. He was a handsome fellow, with hair that curled all over him in delightful little curls, long ears, and a beautiful snub nose.

Rover was sometimes tied up, and sometimes allowed to run about loose. He had a snug kennel, and a trough, in which he was given his dinner every day.

His trough stood in the yard near his kennel, and any birds that saw him eating his dinner used to feel a lively desire to help him. This was a natural feeling on their part, but it was one Rover could not be expected to share. The cocks and hens, and even the younger and therefore less reasonable chickens he soon reduced to order, and kept in good discipline, teaching them very plainly the difference between meum and tuum, or mine and thine. But there were a number of sparrows. who never seemed to see this question of dinner in the same light that he did. They generally lived a little distance away, and often would come near, and look down on the trough when it was filled with the excellent food, and on the dog who was eating it; and they never could understand why they had not as good a right to eat it as he had.

Then they would fly out and about, and sometimes in a body, sometimes only one or two of them, would make a rush at the trough, and try to get their share of its contents; but Rover knew a trick worth two of that, and he would give such a growl when they did so, and the growl was followed up by such a sharp sudden snap in the air among them, that he never failed to scatter them all in a minute, and then to be able to thoroughly enjoy his dinner. Once he actually caught in his mouth one of the toes of a sparrow that had been more daring or less active than the others, and though he only gave the toe a small squeeze and let it off with that, yet even a small squeeze from Rover's

teeth was not an agreeable experience for a sparrow's toe, and while one sparrow was a little hurt, all of them were very much frightened; and for some time after that occurrence Rover ate his dinner in peace.

But the day came when, instead of being allowed to run about as usual, poor Rover was tied up in his kennel; and I will tell you why this was. It was not in consequence of any fault of his, or as a punishment; but because Master Harry was ill, and nothing would keep Rover from going to the door of his bedroom and giving a little friendly bark, which meant, as plainly as bark could mean, "Do let me in ;" and then Master Harry would insist on Rover being let in, and if he were admitted he excited himself in trying to play with him; and if he were not, it made him so sorry that he could not help crying (he was ill, and that makes people less able to be sensible, and to restrain their tears, than when they are well and strong, you know); so Harry's papa said it was better Rover should be tied up out of the way till Harry was well again.

The first day this happened, Jem (that was James the yardman's little boy), was given Rover's dinner as usual to put in his trough, and as usual he did it but he did not know that Rover was chained up in his kennel, which was not as usual— and so he never thought of getting the trough moved within his reach, but put the dinner down into the trough, which was just out of poor Rover's reach, and then ran away.

Rover tried hard to eat up his dinner at first, but when he found he could not he went fast asleep, which was, all things considered, about as sensible a thing as he could do.

He slept, and he was awakened from his sleep; and the way in which he was awakened was by a noise of flapping wings and chattering beaks. He opened his eyes, and he could hardly believe his senses when he did so, for what did he see but his old enemies, the sparrows-if any creatures could be called his enemies, whom till now he had been able to get rid of in a moment by a growl and a snap, and whom he had in consequence of this always regarded as beneath his notice-in triumphant possession of his dinner--his dinner.

Three of them were eating steadily and happily even as he looked. One appeared to be keeping watch over the dinner, and three more, who probably had satisfied their hunger, while he was yet asleep, were perched on the side of the trough with

their beaks to its contents, laughing at, jeering and taunting him. One sparrow, growing reckless with his impudence, foolishly hopped off the trough to flap his wings, and laugh and jeer, a trifle nearer to the defeated prisoner, making a little rush forward as he did so, and the next instant he found himself in Rover's mouth, and the next, still in his mouth, while the dog had returned to his kennel. For the moment Rover saw that the silly creature had placed himself within his reach he made one bound at him, caught him, and with another bound was back again at home, bearing his captive with him.

And the sparrow knew that the dog was uncommonly hungry, for had not he and his relatives eaten up his dinner? Off fled the rest of the birds in abject terror, leaving the unfortunate captive in the grip of the enemy.

Rover gave the sparrow a good shake with his teeth, which produced vertigo on the brain, and very nearly put an end to him at once; and I suppose the next thing that happened would have been that the hungry dog would have very contentedly made his dinner off the bird, only just then James the yardman appeared on the scene, and discovered that stupid little Jem had put the trough out of the dog's reach. He had come to pay a special visit to the children's favourite, and had brought him the bones of a chicken, which Miss Julia had had for dinner; and she had left some dainty morsels on purpose for Rover, to whom she had sent it by James, with her love.

"Here Rover, Rover, poor fellow, good dog," cried James, approaching him with both trough and chicken, and by no means perceiving that Rover had a sparrow in his mouth.

Rover, sly fellow, put the sparrow, more dead than alive, at the back of the kennel, from which be advanced towards James, looking as mild and innocent as possible, and wagging his tail.

So he was petted, and petted, and fed, and he got his dinner, for James brought him more than was left in the trough, and gave him water besides, and made as much of him as a man could make of a dog, for Rover was a general favourite, both for his own sake and for that of his little master and mistress. And then James went away, and Rover returned to his kennel and his prisoner.

The sparrow lay in a little ruffled heap just where Rover had flung him, among the straw at the back of the kennel, when he ran out, hearing James's welcome voice. And there Rover, as he was not at all hungry, having just had a remarkably good dinner, left him, curling himself up in front of him, and going quietly off into a fine sleep.

When he awoke he had forgotten what had

happened. I mean that in the first moment of waking he did not recollect it, and he was quite startled at the miserable little object he beheld, as he happened to look round, standing behind him in the kennel. Master Sparrow had recovered from his vertigo and his terror sufficiently to stand up, but his feathers were in a pitiable condition, quite torn about, one wing was hurt and hung at his side in a crooked manner, while he was so much frightened, and so ashamed of himself, that he hung his head in a crooked manner also, and hardly dared look out of his half-shut eyes at his captor.

When Rover saw him, and remembered who he was, and all about him, he could not help laughing. This was a bit of fortune for the sparrow. Dogs do not laugh as often as you and I do, and a fit of laughter always put Rover into the best of good humours. "I say," cried he to the sparrow, "it's about supper-time, is not it?" At which terrible words the sparrow fell down as if fainting.

But Rover had not meant mischief. He would have scorned to do such a shabby thing as to eat up this wretched, abject little creature, more particularly as he was not hungry. He was only laughing at the sparrow.

When his supper was brought to him he ate it cheerfully, and then he and the sparrow spent the night together in the kennel.

Towards morning, when twilight began, and Master Sparrow heard the birds singing, he tried to make his escape; but he could not fly because of his wing being hurt, and he could not leave the kennel without waking his gaoler's prostrate form. Very softly and timidly, he hopped on to him, and in doing so awoke him; and as Rover awoke, seeing what was happening, he made a great snap at the bird, who fell back headlong, very much frightened, at which Rover had a good chuckle to himself. "Keep your distance, young 'un," he said; and after that the "young 'un" kept his distance by rolling himself up into a ball as much as ever he could, and trying to pretend that he was not there at all.

When James brought Rover his breakfast, and the dog had made a good meal, there was still some of the food left in the trough, and while he enjoyed his after-breakfast nap, the poor hungry sparrow ventured forth very slowly and stealthily, and then in an abject, humble, startled way began to pick a little out of the trough for himself. Rover had been awoke by his movements, though he pretended to be asleep, and watched him out of one corner of his eye. As long as he was eating he did not disturb him, for he thought to himself, "Even a sparrow must eat ;" but the minute he had had what the dog considered enough, Rover with a sudden unexpected growl and snap, which again very

greatly frightened him, drove him back to the kennel.

And this state of affairs continued for three days! On the evening of the third day, Master Harry sat up to his tea in the nursery in his little dressinggown, rather pale after his illness; but in excellent spirits. Of course Rover was sent for, and there was no need to tell him what to do, or where to go; it seemed almost as if with one bound he was at the door of the nursery, and with another in Harry's arms. And as soon as he was gone the sparrow flew away.

But the most curious part of the story is that from that day forth the dog and the bird became the best of good friends. The sparrow paid Rover

frequent visits, and always received a kindly welcome. Nay, Rover would allow him to perch on his trough, and eat out of it with him, though if any of the other sparrows attempted to take the same liberty he drove them off, as ever, with a growl and a snap. Often and often, when Rover was curled up fast asleep, the sparrow would be seen sitting on him as comfortably as possible, and there was an understanding between them that both were quite content with the positions. You can fancy how much amused Harry and Julia were, when they found out the friendship between Rover and the sparrow, though they neither of them knew in what enmity and trouble that friendship had first begun.

"NEHELA BEGAN TO . WHISPER INTO sive in every

THEIR TINY EARS.

way, and living entirely on roots, grass, bark, and what they liked best, wheat or Indian corn.

In close and happy companionship with these viscachas were their dependents, the burrowing owls, who all relied on their patrons for their lodgings, as the viscachas, after digging their burrows, and making nice passages, kindly allowed their feathered followers to occupy part of the joint homes, only exacting, as some small return for this generosity, that the owls should assist them when necessary against their enemies, and sometimes keep watch outside their abodes; for as these viscachas have not good sight, they prefer going abroad at nightfall, or by moonlight. The owls cheerfully agreed to these easy terms, and for a long time peace and content had reigned in their homes.

To be sure, there had been rather a serious disagreement once between the animals and birds, and something very like a battle had been fought; but just after this such a failure of the owls' insect food had taken place from some unknown cause, that many of the birds had died, and the remainder, thankful for not sharing the fate of their com. panions, had gladly returned to their allegiance.

When our tale begins, however, matters were not on quite so friendly a footing as formerly, for suspicions and dark rumours were circulating rapidly amongst these former friends, and I grieve to say that this state of things was almost entirely caused by a member of the once happy community-a viscacha, whose name was Nehelaterek.

Rather an aristocratic name, you will say, and the animal was tolerably well connected; he was not bad-looking either, which unfortunately induced many misguided little creatures to listen to him who would have turned a deaf ear to an ugly or vulgar viscacha.

Nehela was indolent and ambitious; he did not like the trouble of keeping his own home clean; he could get no one to do this work for him, as each householder looked after his particular domicile; and in order to render others as lazy and slovenly as himself, so that their neat little abodes should not shame his by the contrast, and also as he thought he might make a great name for himself as a benefactor of all oppressed owls, this mean and unprincipled viscacha turned against his own friends, and began the work, which, once set going, is not soon stopped, of mischief-making. The owls were ignorant and easily led, and very fond of running after any new plan; so when Nehela began to go about among them and whisper into