eelings were hurt: so he would leave his nice bath, and push
his way through the men, until Billy could see him. Then he would return
to the pump, grunting in a manner that plainly showed his feelings.

He was certainly saying, "I do wish that sheep had a little more of the
pig about him. If I am out of his sight for a moment, he begins to cry,
and take on in such a manner, that I must show myself to him; and then I
have all the trouble of making the sailors pump again."

But the sailors only waited to make Dennis beg a little. They had no
idea of not pumping again. They were always pleased when he showed so
much good feeling for Billy; and generally he got a larger allowance of
water to pay for it.

I believe that Dennis was not living when the ship reached California.
That ever he became food for his sailor friends no one can imagine.
Therefore his fate must remain a mystery, unless some of my readers
happen to know one of the crew of "The Vanderbilt," and can learn from
him something on the subject.

If they can, there are many, no doubt, who would be glad to hear from
them in the pages of "The Nursery." My little girls would, at least.
But, probably, Dennis has more of a place in their thoughts than he can
have in those of others.

C.E.C.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

THE UNMOTHERLY HEN.

Now, my dear children, if you will be very quiet, I will tell you a true
story, which I sometimes tell my little daughter Fanny and her cousin
Grace, when they climb up on my knees just before going to bed.

On a farm near Fishkill, where Fanny's Aunt Jane lives, they raise a
great many chickens, turkeys, ducks, and geese. When I was a boy, ever
so many years ago, I used to have great fun hunting for eggs through the
hay and straw in the barns.

Well, last year one of the hens, instead of laying her eggs in the
hen-house or barn, like a well-mannered hen, stole off under a
wood-pile, and was not seen for three weeks, when she made her
appearance with a fine brood of chickens. To keep her from straying away
again, she was put into a coop. For several days, she was a good mother
to her children; but, after a week or so, she began to act very
strangely, and, when her children came near her, she would peck and
abuse them.

Would you believe it, children? in one day, this unmotherly hen had
pecked all but one of her chickens to death; and, when Aunt Jane found
this poor chap, he had but one eye, and all the to