A has a little bird, and she calls it Tot. You must try to find out
from the picture what sort of a bird it is. It can sing and play; and it
is so tame, that it will put its bill between Anna's lips when she says,
"Kiss me, Tot."

Her dog Fancy is quite fond of the bird, and will let it light on his
head; and Anna is trying to make Muff, the cat, give up her habit of
killing birds. But I hope that Anna will be careful, and not trust Muff
too far.

I have heard of a cat in a bird-shop, that was trained to take care of
birds, instead of harming them; but this is a rare case. It is hard to
keep a cat from catching birds, and from troubling the little young ones
in their nests.

Anna is so fond of Tot, that she will not let a cat come into the room
where he is. Tot can whistle a tune. He likes to light on Anna's head,
and will sometimes almost hide himself under her thick hair. She feeds
him, and gives him a bath every day, and lets him fly about the room.

[Illustration]

If Tot were to fly out of the window, I think he would try to get back
to his own little cage, so fond is he of Anna.

ANNA'S AUNT.

THE STORY OF THE SQUASHES.

I KNOW of two little boys, twin-brothers, who are just five years old.
They are so nearly alike that their best friends can scarcely tell them
apart. Sturdy little men they are; so strong and fair and stout, that I
should be glad to kiss them even when they have come from the dirtiest
depths of their mud-pies. I fancy their mother sighs often over their
torn pantaloons, their battered hats, and their soiled boots; but for
all that, they _must_ play, and things will wear out.

One day in the fall, their papa sent up to the house a farmer's wagon
full of great beautiful squashes, to be put into the cellar for the
winter's use. The farmer put the squashes on the ground close by the
cellar-door ready for storage. But, when their papa came home, the
squashes had disappeared, and he inquired who had put them into the
cellar, and went down to see if they had been properly stored.

But there were no squashes there. And he inquired again where they were;
but no one knew. He called to the boys, who were playing horse on the
sidewalk, to ask if they knew any thing of the squashes. Oh, yes! and
they ran to the barn, he following; and where do you suppose the
squashes were? In the pig-pen--every one of them!

They had toiled and tugged, and