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made their meal, slept soundly till the next morning. Could any life be more glorious than this?
The next day, the bird, who had been told what to do by his friend, would not go in the forest, saying he had waited on them and been made their servant long enough; they should change about, and take their turns at the work. Although the mouse and the sausage begged hard that things might go on as they were, the bird carried the day. So they cast lots, and the lot fell upon the sausage to fetch wood, and the bird was to bring the water.
What happened by thus taking people from their proper work? The sausage set out towards the wood, the mouse set on the pot, and only waited for the sausage to come home, and bring wood for the next day. But the sausage kept away so long that they both thought something must have happened to him, and the bird flew out a little way to look for him. A little way off he found a dog on the road, who said he had met with a poor little sausage, and, taking him for fair prey, had laid hold of him and knocked him down.
The bird made a charge against the dog of open robbery and murder; but words were of no use, for the dog said he found the sausage out of its proper work, and under false colours, and so he was taken for a spy, and lost his life. The little bird took up the wood very sadly and went home, and told what he had seen and heard. The mouse and he were very much grieved, but agreed to do their best and help together.
The little bird undertook to spread the table, and the mouse got ready the dinner; but when she went to dish it up, she fell into the pot and was drowned. When the bird came into the kitchen and wanted the dinner put on the table, no cook was to be seen; so he threw the wood about, here, there, and everywhere, and called and sought on all sides, but still could not find the cook. Meantime, the fire fell upon the food, and set it burning; the bird hastened away to get water, but his bucket fell into the well and he after it; and so ends the story of this clever family.
The house where I was born,
Came peeping in at morn:
Nor brought too long a day,
Had borne my breath away!
The roses, red and white,
Those flowers made of light!
And where my brother set
The tree is living yet.
I remember, I remember,
Where I was used to swing,
To swallows on the wing.
That is so heavy now;
The fever on my brow!
The fir-trees dark and high;
Were close against the sky:
But now 'tis little joy
THE LITTLE DOG.
A Fable. “What shall I do,” said a little dog to his mother, " to show my gratitude to our good master, and make myself of some value to him? I cannot draw or carry burdens like the horse; nor give him milk like the cow; nor lend him my covering for clothing like the sheep; nor produce for him eggs like the poultry; nor catch mice and rats so well as the cat.
“I cannot amuse him with singing like the canaries and linnets; nor can I defend him against robbers like cousin Towzer. I should be of no use to him even if I were dead, as the hogs are. I am a poor little creature, not worth the cost of keeping, and I don't see that I can do a single thing to win his regard.” So saying, the poor little dog hung down his head in silent sadness.
“My dear child,” replied his mother, “though you are not able to do much, yet if you are only willing, you may be sure you will find ways to be useful. Do but love your master dearly, and show your love by all the means in your power, and you will not fail to please him.”
The little dog was very pleased with this assurance, and on his master's approach ran to him, licked his feet, jumped before him, and every now and then stopped, wagging his tail, and looking up to him in a very fond and loving manner. Ah, little Fido," said his master, "you are an honest, good-natured little fellow," and he stooped down to pat his head. Poor Fido was ready to go out of his wits for joy.
Fido now every day went with his master in his walks, playing and skipping round him, and pleasing him with a thousand sportive tricks. He took care, however, not to be tiresome by leaping on him with dirty paws, nor would he follow him into the parlour unless he was called. He also tried to help him in various little ways.
He would drive away the sparrows as they were stealing the chickens' meat; and would run and bark with the greatest fury at any strange pig or other animal that he saw coming into the yard.
He kept the poultry, geese, and pigs from straying beyond their bounds, and from breaking through the hedge into the garden. He was always ready to alarm Towzer, if there was any noise about the house in the night that might be caused by robbers. If his master pulled off his coat in the field to help the workmen, Fido always sat by it, and would not suffer either man or beast to touch it; and in this way people began to think him a very trusty keeper of his master's goods.
His master was once obliged to keep to his bed, having a very severe illness, which put his life in danger. Fido set himself down at the bed-room door, and would not go away even to take food. As soon as his master was so far better that he could sit up, Fido, being let into the room, ran up to him with such marks of joy, as would have melted any heart to behold. This made him very dear to his master, and some time after the little dog was the means of saving him from a great danger.
One hot day, after dinner, he was sleeping in a summer-house, with Fido by his side. The building was old and crazy; and the dog, who was watching his master, heard the walls shake, and saw pieces of mortar fall from the ceiling. He began barking to waken his master, and seeing that he did not rise, he jumped up, and gently bit his finger. The master upon this started up, and had just time to get out of the door, before the whole building fell down. Fido, who was behind, got hurt by some rubbish which