INDEX. AMUSEMENTS, RECREATIONS, &c.- Patchwork for Little Fingers, 25. Pretty Work for Little Fingers- Ornamenting Boxes, 331. BUBBLES OF THE MONTH-48, 81, 149, 209, 285, 341. COTS, THE "LITTLE FOLKS"— Stories of the LITTLE FOLKS Cots.-III.,150. FANCIFUL RHYMES, STORIES, &c.- Toulouru's First Trip to the Sea, 10. An Egyptian Puss in Boots, 37. How the Owls of the Pampas treated their Friends, 84. A Persian Jack and the Bean-stalk, 101. A Scandinavian Jack the Giant-killer, 142. Professor Mouse on Courage, 168. POCKET-BOOK, THE EDITOR'S: JOTTINGS AND PENCIL- The Silver Medal of the LITTLE FOLKS Legion of Honour, 52; The Strength of Toadstools, 52; Hook- ing a Snake, 52; The Last Representative of a Great Man, 52; A Struggle with an Ourang-Outang, 52; A Relic of the Last Doge of Venice, 53; A Javanese Orchestra, 53; The LITTLE FOLKS Prize Compe- titions for 1881, 116; The Butcher Bird, 116; A Royal Translator, 116; A Wounded Veteran, 117; The Bottle-tree of Australia, 117; A Strange Cause of a Fire, 117; The Giant Squids, 180; The World's Postal Business, 180; A Large Raft, 180; The Swimming Powers of Animals, 181; The Shoeblack Plant, 181; A Bird's Nest in a Buoy, 181; An Indian Cradle, 181; The Strength of Insects, 242; The Cedars of Lebanon in Danger, 242; Cranes as Carriers, 242; Pearl-divers of Ceylon, 242; Capturing a Shark, 243; The Snake-charmers of the East, 243; How Indians catch the Condor, 306; An Appeal for Old Books, 306; The "Lion" Sermon, 306; A Missionary Meet- ing in Fiji, 306; The Newspapers of the World, 307; A Gallant Rescue, 307; A Lake Dwelling in Africa, 307; A Clever Hen, 368; Umbrellas and Spice, 368; A Remarkable Triumph of Art, 368; A Docile Snail, 370; Goats protecting Sheep, 370; The Story SHORT STORIES -- The Three Half-Sovereigns, 16. Inquisitive Floss, 24. His First Crow; or, The Conceited Chanticleer, 28. Saved by his Enemy, 45. Hetty's Queer Punishment, 75. "All's Well that Ends Well," 82. How Maggie and Nina sent a Valentine, 107. Entrapped in the Snow, III. The Pigeon and the Falcon, 141. Will's Canary, 154. Smut's Rescue, and What it Brought, 170. The Children and the Rainbow, 202. Buy a Broom?" or, The Doctor's Clemency, 214. The Story of a Famous Prince, 218. Foolish Chuck, 228. What Happened to an Umbrella, 232. Trembledom: a Fanciful Story of Fear, 236. The Silent Moonbeam, 274. The Adventures of Pippin and Doffin, 276. Cheap Jack's Visit to Littledale, 294. The History of a Holiday, 346. Hero Jack, and What he Did, 362. Sivajee and Sumbhajee, 365. STORIES ABOUT BIRDS, BEASTS, AND FISHES- His First Crow; or, The Conceited Chanticleer, 28. Entrapped in the Snow, III. The Pigeon and the Falcon, 141 Smut's Rescue, and What it Erought, 170. About the "American Leopard," 240. The Story of a Sagacious Squirrel, 272. The Puma and its Prey, 283. Jumbo; or, The Hero of the "Zoo," 302. Crocodiles at Home, 360. STORIES AND VERSES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK- A Nursery Rhyme, 56. Brave Bob and Dull Dick, 120. The Bear's Snowball Match, 121. The Swing, 182. Phil's Portrait, 248. Ethel Mary's Visitor, 312. Grandmother's Work-basket, 371. LITTLE FOLKS. MR. BURKE'S NIECES ""Paws and Claws," &c. By the Author of "May Cunningham's Trial," "Two Fourpenny-Bits," CHAPTER I.-WHO IS SHE? BURKE lived in Dublin, as I dare say some of the children who read this story do also. He had a handsome house in Fitzwilliam Place, which is a good wide street, with a square at the one end of it and trees at the other, in which anybody might be comfortable and contented. Dublin is, in a great many respects, a pleasant and pretty city, and does not require a great deal to be done to it to make it an uncommonly pretty and pleasant one. The streets in general are much wider and the squares much larger than the streets and squares in London, and this gives a fine airy, easy look to everything. Then there are some handsome buildings in Dublin: Trinity College, where Irish boys are turned into well-informed men, if not beautiful, is respectable, and parts of it venerable; the bank opposite the college is admired by many, and the two cathedrals-St. Patrick's and Christchurch-by all. Besides this, another good thing about Dublin is that it is not a big place. London would, I dare say, make fifty Dublins; and the consequence of this is that the country is near every part of it, and there is very little of the smoke that is found in London, or of the air thereof which is so hard to breathe. It is true that Dublin has its faults, and that they are very great faults too, but there is no kind of doubt that it has its merits and its good qualities also, and that on a bright, dry, breezy day it is a pleasant enough place, considering that it is a city at all. As I said before, Mr. Burke lived in Dublin. He was a barrister, and had plenty of hard work to do, but not as much as a London barrister has. Some children who are reading this story will know what a barrister is, because their fathers, or uncles, or big brothers are barristers; and others will not, and I don't think it is of the slightest consequence whether they do or not. Every morning Mr. Burke walked from his house in Fitzwilliam Place to the large handsome building called the Four Courts, on the banks of the Liffey, where he did his work, just as boys and girls go to school to learn their lessons. To reach the Four Courts from Fitzwilliam Place, he had to walk about a mile through some of the best parts of Dublin, and cross either Carlisle or Essex Bridge-both very fine bridges: the former, I suppose, rebuilt as it is now, one of the finest in the world-and so on to his place of business, or what if he had been a boy would have been called his school. Of course I need not tell any of you children what the Liffey is. I take it for granted that you are none of you who read this so young as not to have learned in your geography lessons that Dublin is the capital of Ireland, and that it is situated on the river Liffey. Every day of his life, then, except Sundays, while he was in Dublin, which was the greater part of the year, Mr. Burke walked from Fitzwilliam Place to the Four Courts after breakfast, and every afternoon he walked back from the Four Courts to Fitzwilliam Place. He had no wife or children, for he had never been married; he was rich, and about thirty-five years of age. He often dined out or had friends to dinner, though sometimes he brought papers home with him, and had to dine by himself, and write away for hours and hours at them, sitting up to the middle of the night in order to complete his work. It was on a cold, dreary afternoon in winter that Mr. Burke took his accustomed walk home from |