the house and hurried back," asked their mamma, in a great fright. "What is all this? What does it mean?" exclaimed papa breathlessly, from haste and dread. "Oh, mamma, mamma, our rabbits! “Oh, papa, our beautiful rabbits! And all the grief burst out fresher, and all the crying louder than ever. "Our rabbits, our own dear rabbits, are every one de-a-d," sobbed one. "Dead and buried," wailed another. "Sysyphus did it," broke in a boy. ""That fox,'Henry's fox," came through a chorus of rising sorrow, while each little girl held up a particular favourite with heart-broken sobs, showing its dismal condition, and stroking its fur to try to make it look like its old self-what it would never be again. "This is very vexing, my dears; but if the fox is loose it must be attended to at once, or the fowls will suffer." "Where is Henry?" . But when Henry heard he would not believe it was his fox was the culprit ; if it was a fox at all, it must have been some other fellow's fox. And so in the confusion and arguments and search for him in the large garden, where Henry went off, followed by all the other boys, while the weeping girls gathered their dead darlings in their arms and carried them away, Sysyphus, seeing all the rabbits gone and danger afloat, darted from his hiding-place, made his way through the pipe into the yard, and got shelter in an empty pig-stye, where he remained for several days unsuspected, watching for and seizing a stray fowl staying out late at night. Only too soon and too surely he found a hen with nine chickens, the glory of poor little Albert, who had watched and tended them till then; and so thoroughly did the fox like the whole flock there was nothing discovered in the morning but a couple of wings and the hen's two feet, the chickens he had eaten up altogether the pretty downy chickens that were such a pride and joy of little Albert's heart, and oh, how he cried about their loss! " Search was made for the fox. Papa offered rewards and presents for his dead body, and Henry promised largely for him living, all in vain; Sysyphus was too clever. Night after night he carried off a gosling, a turkey, fowl, geese, the youngest chickens, everything he could pounce on and eat, but the wily, cunning fellow never allowed any one, even the dog in the yard, to see him. He grew bolder, and scratched a hole in the thatched roof of the fowl-house, and helped himself plentifully, always covering up the thatch carefully again, till nearly all the fowls had disappeared. Nobody ever thought of looking for. him on the top of the haystack, and there was his den. When everybody was asleep in the early morning he came and took what he liked, and crept back along the wall again. The keenest feeling of grief and anger was reached when the beautiful longtailed peacock, who used to come and eat from the children's hands on the Rectory steps, was found torn and dying, having flown for his life to a high chimney after a severe battle. The deep bleeding marks of the fox's teeth were in his bright blue-green neck and in his goldburnished back. He only lived a few, hours, poor bird! After that the rage against the fox was increased tenfoldno name was bad enough for his wickedness, and a higher price was set on his head. The boys with the menservants sat up at night, scoured the country with a gun and sticks, set traps, and guarded doors and gates till midnight, and all the while Sysyphus lay in his cosy bed in the hay-stack, and laughed at all their vain hunting, and stole the fowls and left their heads, wings, and feet behind him as a grand joke, to show how little he regarded their threats. But an awful shock came one day! Men and horses drove up to the haystack, and he heard Paddy call to another man: "Give me the pitchfork, and you bring the ladder to throw down the hay.” Awful words! Sysyphus knew his days of peace and plenty were over. What was he to do? Ay! what, indeed! We shall know next month. (To be concluded in our next.) THE BEAUTIFUL PEACOCK. BRAVE SISTER ANNIE. ON act of great bravery a young woman, aged 16 years, escaped from the house in which the fire originated, but immediately afterwards discovered that her sister, aged seven, was still on the premises. Placing a shawl across her mouth, the girl rushed back into the house, ascended the stairs which were then on fire, groped her way through the smoke, and finding her sister, succeeded in rescuing her. The girl was burnt about the face, but otherwise escaped injury. This noble and brave act was so gratifying to the people of Oldham, that in a few days a large meeting was held in the Guildhall, at which the Mayor and other magistrates and gentlemen presided, and the silver medal of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem was presented to the loving and brave sister, the Mayor pinning the medal upon her breast amidst the loud applause of the assembly. Our artist has prepared a picture of the event, and Mrs. Battersby has very kindly sent the following poem upon the subject. ED. C.O.M. HE engines came clattering down on the scene, The bright flames were glancing the windows between, The house was alight from the basement to stair, But "all have escaped," the beholders declare. Not all!-a poor little one left quite alone Is waking in terror, with sobbing and And bearing the child, now half fainting with fear, She rushed through the flames as they swept far and near, Down the stairs, o'er the portal-scorched, stifling-but proud Of that dearly-bought burden!-A cheer from the crowd! And brave Annie gained, though with scars on her face, Of battle well fought, a true heroine's place. But one thankful look at the child she had saved Repaid her far better for death nobly braved, Than when the bright medal she gained did declare Her country rewarded its heroine fair. |