other gentleman about the difficulty of protecting wild birds.

"There is scarcely a boy in the parish who does not try to make their number less; and they are so hungry and benumbed by the long frost, that they visit the most bare-faced snares the urchins make for them."

"Too bad!" replied the other. “I am engaged in a crusade on behalf of the robins just now. I suppose you boys don't think it sport to catch starving birds?"

Tom laughed, and shook his head. Jack blushed, and thought of the brick trap at home.

In the meantime the hour for bed arrived, and Maggie ran unperceived to the schoolroom, and stirred a bit of coal on the fire, which threw out a cheery light. Then, with just a glance at the cage, and putting her hands on her ears to avoid hearing the fluttering wings, she ran up to bed.

Nurse never left a light, and Nina was sometimes wakeful; so Maggie, who was very tender in her love for her little sister, often talked to her till she fell asleep.

On this night Nina did not talk, but she kept awake and heard her father arrive home. He came up all frosty and muffled up, and kissed his little girls, whom he had not seen for two months. Byand-by the house grew all still, and Maggie slept peacefully until the voice of Nina roused her.

"Maggie, Maggie dear, do open the curtains, for there's a moon to-night."

Maggie sleepily roused herself, and pulled up the blind and parted the curtains. Then the moonlight poured through the lattice windows, and made a silver patchwork on the floor. Maggie was just going to sleep again when she heard Nina sob.

"Go to sleep, Nina, or I'll call nurse."

"No, no, Maggie dear. I've only just thought of something," cried Nina tearfully. "To-morrow is Valentine's Day."

"Well, what is there to cry about if it is? We're sure to get some valentines."

"It isn't that, Maggie," persisted Nina-and the restless little figure slipped out of bed, and ran across to Maggie's side-" but--that-poor little robin! I do wish he had not been caught !"

Sleepy Maggie sat up, only half understanding, but spoke sternly—

"Go back to bed, Nina; you'll catch cold." "I'll go to bed, Maggie, and be quite good, if you'll only go down and let the robin go," pleaded Nina.

"Jack will be angry," said Maggie, who had been longing for the same thing before she went to bed. "Never mind. I'll tell Jack I begged you to do it."

And slowly Maggie got up, and put on dressinggown and slippers.

"Are you afraid to go down alone, Maggie? Shall I come?" asked Nina, showing unmistakable signs of relief when her offer was refused.

Very quickly went the light footsteps over the creaking stairs, but light as they were, the sound caught the ears of Major Wilton, who was sitting up alone in the dining-room. He gently followed the little figure, thinking Maggie was walking in her sleep. He saw her undo the shutters and window, and then unfasten the bird-cage, and away flew the robin. Then the window was made fast again, and the child turned her wide-awake face, and started at seeing her father so close to her. In a few words he heard her story and Nina's little romance. Then he carried her up to bed.

The morning light came early through the unscreened lattice window, and when Maggie sleepily unclosed her eyes, she saw Nina sitting up in her little bed, looking out earnestly. 'Don't

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you hear them, Maggie?" she asked. "Hear what?" drowsily inquired Maggie, who was not of an imaginative temperament.

Why, the dear birds; they've been singing since the first little bit of light came."

"I must get up," said Maggie, and she looked out at the bare apple-trees as she arose. "The frost is all gone. No more skating for Jack."

Nurse arrived with the appliances for Nina's toilet. "It won't be cold in your bath this morning, dear; and you should make haste and see what a splendid breakfast the birds are getting in the garden after the rain."

Up jumped Nina, crying joyously—

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Oh, nurse, how glad I am! because they will have all the things they like for their breakfasts, instead of only crumbs. And they ought to, for it is Valentine's morning, you know."

Nina finished her dressing, and the postman's horn now sounded, and down rushed Maggie to claim the big square envelopes, of which her father was carefully reading the addresses.

"There are four for you, Maggie, and only one for me!" said Nina, rather sadly.

"And three for Jack," said Major Wilton; adding, "I had forgotten the day, but I am going to the town after lunch-no; you can't come-and I will bring home a valentine for each of you."

By-and-by Jack came home, and Maggie, with some timidity, told him of the bird that had been snared, and how Nina had cried in bed till she promised to let it go. Greatly to Maggie's surprise, Jack exhibited no annoyance; on the contrary, he looked rather relieved.

"Don't you mind, then, Jack?" she asked.

"Well, no; it doesn't matter now. I don't know what I set the trap for."

Maggie was silent a minute, and then observed, half to herself," I heard mamma saying that some French people said an Englishman was never happy except when he was killing something."

"Don't you get too clever for your age, my dear," cautioned Jack, as he walked off to the garden, leaving Maggie somewhat red and confused. There Nina joined her, and they both wondered what their father's valentines would be like. It was getting dusk when Major Wilton came home.

"Papa!" cried little Nina, in great excitement, "what are you holding so high?" It was a bookseller's parcel, which when opened was found to contain two beautiful books, full of coloured pictures of birds. Nina received the English, Maggie the foreign collection, and both were silent with delight until their father's voice broke the spell.

"I thought I would bring you as good a valentine as you sent away-you and Maggie," said he.

"We haven't sent any, papa," exclaimed the bewildered children, and Jack drew near, for he had not heard the whole story.

Major Wilton took Nina on his knee, and put an arm round Maggie; then he said very mysteriously

"Once there were two little girls who watched somebody who was thoughtless enough to set a trap for a poor bird."

Jack fidgeted uncomfortably.

"The little girls thought all somebody did was right, as a rule, and when somebody went away to amuse himself, they thought they were obliged to keep safe a frightened little prisoner for him. However, when night came, a little girl in bed remembered that the next day was Valentine's Day, and her tender little heart felt sorry to think that one poor bird was made fast in a cage downstairs." Then Major Wilton kissed her, and said—

"It was a kind thought, and if little birds can think, that robin must be grateful. Freedom is God's gift-remember and act on that without fear. You sent the robin-that was your valentine, and these bird-books are mine. Never try to snare birds, Jack; we need them all in our fields and hedges." Jack promised, and kept his word.

Next morning Maggie and Nina saw what they declared was their own robin hopping on a gardensieve with a fat worm in his mouth.

"The dear fellow!" whispered Nina delightedly; "he isn't eating it, I'm sure. Maggie, he's taking it home to his mate." MINNIE DOUGLAS.

W

ENTRAPPED

INTER-TIME in mountainous countries is to the wild animals that frequent them as trying a season as it is to poor and homeless people in busy towns. Little folk look gleefully forward to the advent of Jack Frost, for to most of them he brings joyous holidays. Whether out or in doors there is always abundance of fun for children in bracing wintry weather. The slides, or the skating, the snow giant, or the attack on the snow fortress provide plenty of healthful amusement by day, and then Christmas parties by night furnish an equally pleasant means of enjoyment should the weather be unfavourable for much open air recreation. But there are hundreds and thousands of children to whom the reign of the same Jack Frost brings nothing but cold, and misery, and hunger. So, too, with the beasts of the field and forest. Our domesticated animals can be cared for-they can be housed and fed. But if we go into hilly localities, what must be the trials of a severe winter to the deer and other animals? They have to wander for miles over snow-covered ground in search of a

scanty subsistence, and oftentimes in the course of their journeys they meet with accidents, that perhaps end quite too fatally for them. Some fortunate animals pass this season in a torpid state, and awake to sense and hunger only when the springtide has set in. Others, again, migrate to warmer climes, while others can neither enjoy a long winter sleep nor pitch their quarters in other lands, but must remain at home, taking things as they come. Winter is the season when the cowardly wolf becomes most dangerous, and in those countries where he is still found in great numbers, he takes very good care, as a rule, that whoever else suffers his wants are duly supplied. Sometimes it happens that the winter is a green one-brings with it, that is, little or no snow. In such case the condition of the poor animals is less harsh, but "green winters" are, as a rule, only local, and not general, so that the season may be described quite correctly as a very sore one for the untamed animals.

The red deer, for example, not only find great difficulty in obtaining a moderate quantity of food, but run many risks besides, as well from snowpits, or snowdrifts, or snowfalls, as from beasts of

prey. Picture a scene that may often be met with in desolate regions. A company of these beautiful creatures are traversing a forest in Scotland, and while resting under the shelter of a projecting rock, a curious sound falls upon their ears. Assuming an alert attitude, as if prepared for any danger, they glance uneasily round, looking for the source of the noise. While thus engaged, and ere they have time to escape, a cloud of snow suddenly pours down upon them with a heavy thud from the rocks overhead, nearly emtombing some of the terrified animals, and sending others scampering away out of harm's reach.

Fortunately these miniature avalanches, which are common enough whenever the sun is shining strongly, are attended with little real danger. The snow has not time to acquire much consistency before the entrapped animals, with wild and oftrepeated efforts, succeed in extricating themselves from their perilous position. Some small animals and ground birds occasionally bury themselves in the snow for warmth, and it has sometimes happened that while they were fast asleep a storm has come on, and a new supply of snow having fallen, has filled up the holes by which the poor things breathed the fresh air, and they were found weeks and months afterwards lifeless-suffocated. Red deer living near villages or gentlemen's mansions often become quite tame in winter through pressure of hunger; they will then draw near to the houses

for food, and should their wants be supplied, they will come again at the same time day after day on the same errand, until the snow and ice have disappeared.

The

Professor Leith Adams says that the perfect stillness of a Canadian forest after a heavy fall of snow is most remarkable. Solemn silence prevails around, unbroken by creaking branch, or cry of bird or beast. So changed is the scenery that familiar pathways are scarcely recognisable. The number of four-footed animals in the district may be told from their footprints in the snow. lynx is one of the first to be up and doing, when the weather has cleared, and Professor Adams has been able to follow its tracks for miles, now observing where it had been sitting on its haunches by a fir-trunk watching for mice, then where it had made the spring upon the tiny prey (whose minute footmarks looked as if a large beetle had crawled over the soft surface), and, lastly, where-just in the nick of time-the nimble little creature had dived headlong into the snow, as the heavy paw was in the act of descending upon it. The woods are as lovely in their way and as picturesque in winter as in summer; but their denizens can be happy only in the latter season, when the weather is genial and food plentiful and easily got at. So, too, we find it is in the busy haunts of men, where the poor and outcast find their sole comfort in the sunny months of the year, when winter chills have gone.

a less amount of description will be required to make thein understand the best way of making the articles for the "Wool Playthings Competition."

A description of the method of making the soft and fluffy woollen balls, suitable for infants, and for the use of very small children, appeared in the August, 1881, number of LITTLE FOLKS (page 78), to which our readers may refer; but there are other kinds of balls which are covered with crochet work, or knitted, the insides being made of strips of woollen and cotton rags, wound tightly round and round, the centre being sometimes composed of a small india-rubber ball, to give a good shape and a little spring, or disposition to bound, to the otherwise rather unsatisfactory ball when finished. Too much hardness must be avoided, as likely to give an unpleasant knock, if by any chance throw they should hit the small playmate of the owner on the head, or in the eye-thereby also bringing the game into disrepute.

Having covered and prepared the foundation, and made it perfectly round, we must then proceed

to make our crochet or knitted cover. The former is generally made by working round and round; the latter, by knitting so many quarters to fit the round of the ball-two or more colours being employed and sewing them together. The method of working the crochet cover is to make a chain of ten stitches and work round it, until you have thirtytwo stitches, these increasing just enough to keep it in a cup-like shape, which is effected by working a row of treble with three chain stitches between each.

Any pattern may be worked on our cover, and both the decreasing and the increasing are very easily managed by any little girl who can crochet at all.

The knitted quarters are also simple. Starting with two stitches on the needle, we increase at both sides, by putting the thread before the needle at every second row, until we reach the width required in the centre, or greatest diameter of the ball; and after knitting about half a dozen rows, we begin to decrease by knitting two stitches together at both sides at every second or third row, until we have decreased to two stitches only. The best plan for the inexperienced reader and worker is to knit a section with steel needles, No. 12 or 14, and some wool or fingering, and test the effect before commencing the ball.

The knitted reins, which form another item of competition, are often to be seen, and will be no unfamiliar articles to many little folk, to whom they may very probably have been presented in their childhood by some kind and industrious grandmamma or maiden aunt. The number of stitches cast on for the reins is from ten to twelve, the needles being steel, number 14; and scarlet fingering, yarn, or stocking-worsted will be found the favourite colour. The reins are from two to two and a quarter yards long, and in knitting them the first stitch is always slipped. The band for the harness is usually made very wide, and may be knitted sufficiently long to go round the body and button at the back, for which length cast on from twenty to thirty stitches. The shoulder-bands are of about the same width as the reins, the width being increased at the shoulders. On this small specimen of harness little bells are sewn, placed round the waist and at the shoulders; and some people add some shiny black "American cloth" to strengthen the knitted parts, and to increase the effect. The whole of the body part may also be made of American cloth bound round with red woollen braid, the reins only being knitted. Little red woollen tassels are sometimes added to improve the appearance of the reins.

Perhaps the dolls dressed in costumes of crochet

and knitting may be considered the most difficult branch of this Competition. The dolls usually selected for the purpose are of india-rubber, and as they neither break nor chip, they are probably the best for little children. But some of the readers of LITTLE FOLKS may aspire to making the doll also, in which case they must proceed as if making a rag doll. In order to match with the knitting and crochet garments, some dolls I recently saw were made of stocking, or "jersey web," the same as is used for undergarments of all kinds, and stockings, wigs, and hair for the dolls are always done in looped knitting. Of course the little garments should be made to take off and on, or much of the enjoyment of the doll will be lost to its poor little owner.

Single Berlin wool is the best kind to be used for making the dresses, or else any other fine wool, and the crochet-hook is of bone. The measurement of the doll should be taken, also the length and the width of the skirt, remembering that no fulness is needed. Commence by cutting out a paper pattern of each article, whether circular cloak, dress, hood, or petticoat, and crochet them to the size of your pattern, being careful to make the increasings and decreasings quite evenly on each side.

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For the cloak, have two seams, or "decreasings " on each shoulder, and a bias seam at the back. Begin to work it at the neck by making a chain of the right size. The dress is a kind of little Princesse," or bodice and skirt in one. It is begun at the bottom of the skirt, and the decreasings are made on each side under the doll's arms, a hole being left for the sleeves to go in, which should be made afterwards, being worked round and round till long enough for the arms. The edges of the little garments are finished by one or two rows of open crochet, in a contrasting or a darker shade to that of the dress.

There are written instructions for the making of some of these little garments, but some of them are too difficult and intricate for little folk to understand, and the best small examples that I have seen are those which were worked by means of the paper pattern only to fit the, especial doll selected.

Of course, where dolls differ so much in size, no one pattern would answer for every variety, and the alterations would become too puzzling for small workers to manage. Great care must be taken to finish off all ends of wool in all the woolwork Competitions, using a wool needle, and running them in, so as to be invisible, and perfectly neat. The work should in all cases be kept as clean as possible. D. DE B.