Puss grew presently familiar, would leap into my lap, raise himself upon his hinder feet, and bite the hair from my temples. He would suffer me to take him up, and to carry him about in my arms, and has more than once fallen fast asleep upon my knee. He was ill three days, during which time I nursed him, kept him apart from his fellows, that they might not molest him (for, like many other wild animals, they persecute one of their own species that is sick), and, by constant care, and trying him with a variety of herbs, restored him to perfect health. No creature could be more grateful than my patient was after his recovery; he expressed his gratitude by licking my hand— first the back of it, then the palm, then every finger separately, then between all the fingers, as if anxious to leave no part of it unsaluted; this he never performed but once again upon a similar occasion. Finding him extremely tractable, I made it my custom to carry him always, after breakfast, into the garden, where he hid himself generally under the leaves of a cucumber, sleeping or chewing the cud till evening; in the leaves, also, of that plant he found a favourite repast. I had not long accustomed him to this taste of liberty, before he began to be impatient for the return of the time when he might enjoy it. He would invite me to the garden by drumming upon my knee, and by a look which could not possibly be mistaken; if this did not succeed, he would take the skirt of my coat between his teeth, and pull it

with all his force. Thus Puss might be said to be perfectly tamed; the shyness of his nature was gone, and, on the whole, it was evident that he was happier with me than when shut up with the other hares.

Not so Tiney; upon him the kindest treatment had not the least effect. He, too, was sick, and in his sickness had an equal share of my attention: but if, after his recovery, I took the liberty to stroke him, he would strike with his forefeet, spring forward, and bite. He was, however, very entertaining in his way; even his surliness was matter of mirth, and in his play he preserved so grave an air, and performed his feats in so solemn a manner, that in him, too, I had an agreeable companion.

Bess, who died soon after he was full-grown, and whose death was caused by his being turned into his box (which had been washed) while it was yet damp, was a hare of great humour and drollery. Puss was tamed by gentle usage; Tiney was not to be tamed at all; and Bess had a courage and confidence that made him tame from the beginning. I always admitted them into the parlour after supper, when, the carpet affording their feet a firm hold, they would frisk and bound, and play a thousand gambols, in which Bess, being remarkably strong and fearless, was always superior to the rest. One evening, the cat, being in the room, had the boldness to pat Bess upon the cheek, an insult which he resented by drumming upon her

back with such violence that the cat was only too glad to escape from under his paws, and hide herself.

STORY OF PUSS, TINEY, AND BESS—

(continued).

I HAVE described these animals as having each a character of his own; and their faces were so expressive of that character, that, when I looked only on the face of either, I at once knew which it was, just as a shepherd is said to become so familiar with the features of his flock, however numerous, that he can distinguish each from all the rest. These creatures soon discover the slightest change that is made in the place to which they are accustomed, and instantly apply their noses to examine a new object. A small hole being burnt in the carpet, it was mended with a patch, and that patch in a moment was closely looked at. They seem to be very much directed by the smell in the choice of their favourites: with some persons, though they saw them daily, they would never be friendly, and would even scream when they attempted to touch them; but a miller coming in engaged their affections at once; his powdered coat had charms which they could not resist. With regard to their food, sow-thistle, dandelion, and lettuce are their favourite vegetables, especially the last. I found out by accident that they are very fond of fine white sand. It happened that I was cleaning a birdcage when

the hares were with me; I placed a pot filled with such sand upon the floor, which, being at once directed to it by a strong instinct, they devoured greedily; since that time I have taken care to see them well supplied with it. They account green corn a luxury, both blade and stalk, but the ear they seldom eat. Straw of any kind, especially wheat-straw, is another of their dainties; they will feed greedily upon oats, but if furnished with clean straw, never want them; it serves them also for a bed, and if shaken up daily, will keep sweet and dry for some time. To prevent them having the disease called the rot, I always made bread their principal nourishment, and, filling a pan with it cut into small squares, placed it every evening in their rooms, for they feed only at evening and in the night. During the winter, I mingled this mess of bread with shreds of carrot, adding to it the rind of apples cut extremely thin; for, though they are fond of the paring, the apple itself disgusts them. These, however, not being a sufficient substitute for the juice of summer herbs, they must at this time be supplied with water; but so placed, that they cannot overturn it into their beds. I must not omit, that sometimes they are much pleased with twigs of hawthorn and of the common brier, eating even the very wood when it is of some thickness.

I must add that they are very nice in keeping themselves clean, for which purpose nature has furnished them with a brush under each foot; and that they are never infested by any vermin.

45

POOR DOG TRAY.

On the green banks of Shannon when Sheelah was nigh,

No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;

No harp like my own could so cheerily play;
And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.

When at last I was forced from my Sheelah to part,

She said (while the sorrow was big at her heart), 'Oh! remember your Sheelah when far, far away; And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray.'

Poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be sure; And he constantly loved me, although I was poor; When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away,

I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.

When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold,

And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old,
How snugly we slept in my old coat of gray,
And he licked me for kindness-my old dog Tray.

Though my wallet was scant I remembered his

case,

Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face;
But he died at my feet on a cold winter's day,
And I played a lament for my poor dog Tray.