of it. But do you think they were discouraged?

Oh, no! for they soon had a nice nest built; and one day Johnny found an
egg in the nest, which, from its bright hue, he knew to be a robin's
egg. This was followed by other eggs, and, in due time, by a whole brood
of young birds.

AUNT ABBIE.

[Illustration]

A ROUGH SKETCH.

HERE is a boy drawing on a wall. He is a shoemaker's boy. His name is
Bob.

Tom, the baker's boy, and a little girl named Ann are looking on. "What
is it?" asks Ann at sight of the picture.

"It's a fine lady, of course," says Tom. "Don't you see her head-dress
and her sun-shade?" Bob is so busy that he cannot stop to talk.

He is well pleased with his work. But the man who is looking around the
corner of the wall does not look pleased in the least.

It is plain that he has no love for the fine arts. Or it may be that he
does not like to see such a rough sketch on his wall.

Perhaps he thinks that when boys are sent on an errand, they ought not
to loiter by the way.

A. B. C.

[Illustration]

PETER'S PETS.

"HOW old are they, Peter?" asked Ralph Lamson, pointing to two little
guinea-pigs on a rude cage which Peter had himself made.

"I've had them about six weeks," said Peter. "I don't know how old they
were then; but they were only little things: they've grown twice as big
since I've had them."

"What do you give them to eat?" asked Edwin Moore.

"Oh! all sorts of things," replied Peter. "They're fond of carrots,
apples, and all sorts of green leaves, and, what is queer, they are fond
of tea-leaves."

"Fond of tea-leaves!" cried Ralph and Edwin.

"Yes," said Peter, "they like tea-leaves very much. I give them oats
too, and bits of bread."

"And what do they drink?" asked Edwin.

"They don't want much to drink, if they get plenty of green stuff and
tea-leaves," said Peter; "but they like a drop of milk now and then, if
they can get it."

"Where do these animals come from?" asked Ralph.

"From Brazil and Paraguay in South America. It is thought that their
odor drives away rats; and that is one reason why we keep them."

"What will you sell them for?" asked Ralph.

"Oh, I can't sell them!" said Peter. "They are my pets. Funny little
fellows they are, and not so stupid as they seem. This white one I call
Daisy; and the other I call Dozy, because he sl