walk home, after all, or pay for a ride, or catch on to
some wagon. No, sir! I'm going now."

He was afraid to say as much to the widow. He did not even go near the
house again.

As for Barlow, that active dog refused to even sit down another time on
the grass of Penniman's Corners.

Jed was half afraid he might be headed off and stopped by somebody. Mrs.
Simmons might come after him, and insist on his staying overnight and
paying her that shilling. Somebody else might take the other three away
from him.

It was a great trial to be travelling alone with so much money as that,
and Barlow must have felt it more or less, for he did not even bark. He
had very few chances to sit down, however, for Jed did not feel really
safe until he could see the steeple of the village church, and he walked
better than he ever had before.

He was a very tired boy when he reached the corner of his own street,
there by Mr. Philips's grocery, and he leaned up against the big poplar
for a long look at the stack of boxes of fire-crackers.

"Ain't I glad I came back! Come here, Barlow."

But Barlow was lying down, with a large job of panting to do, and he did
not come.

SOME INHABITANTS OF AFRICA.

Boys and girls who have visited menageries have probably seen an animal
shaped something like a horse, but beautifully adorned with black and
tawny stripes, standing silent and sulky in its cage. This is the zebra,
the wild horse of the great plains of Southern Africa. There it lives in
great herds, and browses on the thin grass and low shrubs of the
wilderness. It enjoys the widest liberty, and gallops and gambols
merrily with its companions through regions where the foot of man rarely
penetrates. It is not strange that when captured it refuses to be tamed,
and retains its wild nature to the end. There are, however, exceptions
to this rule. There are at present a pair of zebras in the Garden of
Plants, at Paris, which, by the constant care and kindness of their
young keeper, have gradually come to show a great affection for him, and
will even allow him to harness them to a little carriage and drive them
about the streets of Paris.

The zebra's chief weapons of defense are its lively little heels, which
it uses vigorously when attacked. It is a very wise and cunning beast,
and as its sharp ears detect the slightest rustling among the bushes, it
is very difficult to approach. The hyenas leave the zebra in peace, and
even lions and