One hot afternoon Robert was playing under the maple tree. He was tired of his wagon and his train of cars, and he looked about for something else to play with. "Come here, Prince!" he said to his dog. "Let me put my hat on your head and play that you are a little boy."

Prince was sleepy and tired. He did not feel like playing that he was a little boy. He shook his head until the hat fell off, and Robert struck him with a stick. Then the poor dog ran away.

Under the rose-bush was Snowball, the cat, having a good nap.

"Oh, Snowball!" said Robert, "I will give you a ride." And he tried to put her into the tiny wagon.

Snowball did not care to ride. She scratched Robert and ran off as fast as she could go.

"What a naughty cat!" said Robert angrily.

"What a naughty boy!" said Robert's mamma, who had been watching him from the porch. "It was unkind to disturb Prince and Snowball as you did. I think you must go and stay by yourself a little while."

Robert ran upstairs, shut his door very hard, and threw himself upon his bed.

It seemed to him that he had been there only a minute when he heard voices. He looked up and found himself in the garden again. Near him several dogs and cats were talking. To his surprise he understood what they said.

Prince was speaking. "I am tired of living here," he said. "My little master does not treat me very well. This morning he took me with him when he went on his bicycle. I was tired out and very hot and thirsty when we came home, but he would not take the trouble to fill my pan of water. I asked him plainly for a drink of water, but he laughed at me and said he was busy."

"I scratched him to-day," said Snowball. "Perhaps that may teach him not to hurt me so often. He lifts me by one paw, and yesterday he swung me about by the tail. I am sure he doesn't know how much he hurts me."

"You are a brave cat to dare to scratch him," said a sober little kitten. "We have a baby at our house, and of course I can't scratch a baby. She pulls my fur and puts her fingers in my eyes. The other children catch me when I run away, and give me back to her."

"That is very unfair," said a dog who was walking about. "You must excuse me for walking while I talk, but I have been chained so long that I am quite stiff. Of course I run away when the chain is taken off. Who wouldn't?"

"But you have enough to eat," said a thin cat who sat under the tree and who was looking up longingly at the birds. "No one gives me anything to eat until I cry for it. Then I am scolded for making such a noise. I should be glad to catch mice, if there were any to be found in our house."

"Still, you have a home," said a faint voice. "It is something to be thankful for, if you have a place to sleep."

All turned to see where the voice came from. A forlorn cat came out timidly from the currant bushes. It made Robert's heart ache to look at her.

"You had a good home a few weeks ago," said Prince, "though I must say I hardly knew you when you came up. Do have some of my dinner. I am not hungry myself."

"Thank you," said the newcomer gratefully. "Yes, I had a good home, and the children were kind to me. They have gone to the seashore now, and the house is shut up. They are not coming back for weeks. I don't believe I can live till then. I wish I were dead. I should be thankful if somebody would be kind enough to kill me."

Her voice died out in a wail of despair.

Robert's eyes were full of tears, and he began to sob. Then he heard his mother say:

"Why, my boy, what are you dreaming about? Wake up, dear. It is almost supper time, and papa is coming up the street."

"Oh, mother!" said Robert, "I have had such a bad dream! I am sure I shall never be cruel to poor Snowball again."

[Illustration: A FARM YARD]

ROBERT ON A FARM.

When Robert was ten years old, he spent several weeks on a farm. He had always lived in the city, and he was eager to know something of country life.

The farmer, Mr. Spencer, promised to teach Robert all that he could about the animals on the farm. The boy had not been long in his new home before he ran to the barn. There were three cows in the barn and two horses. They looked very comfortable and happy.

"What wide stalls they have!" said Robert, "and I never saw a cow in a box stall before."

"Yes," said James, who was milking the cows, "all these stalls are wide enough for the cows and horses to lie down whenever they like. Do you see, too, that the animals face the barn, instead of staring at a blank wall all day?"

"It must be more fun to look into the barn than at a few boards," said
Robert, "but I never thought of it before."

"They like to watch what is going on," said James, "and they have better air than they would in a close stall."

"What delicious milk we had last night!" said Robert, stooping to rub
Clover's head, to her great delight.

"Our cows give good milk," said James. "Mr. Spencer makes his cows happy, and he finds that it pays. Only last week he sent off a boy because he made the cows run on the way to the pasture. You know that injures the cows and spoils the milk."

"Do they go to pasture every day?" asked Robert.

"Yes," said Mr. Spencer, who came into the barn just then. "They go every day in summer, unless there is a heavy rain. Some cows take cold easily, and should never be out in a long storm. In winter, when it is not too cold, they have an hour or two in the cow-yard at noon. The barn is warm, and they have a good bedding of straw. In a cold barn, cows should be blanketed in freezing weather."

"Do cows eat anything but hay and grass?" asked Robert.

"Oh, yes!" said Mr. Spencer. "Cows need a variety in their food, and plenty of water to drink. My cows eat corn-stalks, carrots, mangel- wurzels, and sometimes bran and corn-meal mixed."

"How sleek they look!" said Robert.

"James cards and brushes them every day, to keep them in good condition."

"They seem very friendly," Robert went on. "Clover is not at all afraid of me."

"They have never been frightened or hurt," said Mr. Spencer, "and they are affectionate creatures. Cows are often homesick in a new home with a strange master, and they grow to love those who are kind to them. I knew a little boy who tried to comfort a cow for the loss of her calf. She was very unhappy and the boy did all that he could to show how much he pitied her. Soon the cow would follow him about the place. When he went away she was lonely, and when he came back she greeted him with evident delight."

"Is it easy to milk a cow?" asked Robert. "It looks easy."

Mr. Spencer laughed. "It is not so simple as it looks," he said, "but James will teach you, if you like. My cows never kick, but if you ever try to milk a cow that kicks, you must be very gentle with her. I have heard that a cloth wrung out in cold water and laid over her loins will keep her quiet when other methods fail."

"I will try to remember that," said Robert.

"Cows, like most animals, are kind to one another," said Mr. Spencer, seeing that Robert was interested in the pretty creatures. "I was at work in the barnyard one day when two cows came up the road to the gate. They seemed to be looking for something.

[Illustration: A GROUP OF FRIENDS.]

"It was a hot, dusty day, and suddenly the thought came to me that they were looking for some water. I opened the gate, and they went at once to the trough by the pump. When I had filled the trough they drank as if they were nearly choked with thirst.

"As soon as they were satisfied they went away, but in less than an hour they came back again, bringing three other cows with them. During all the hot weather these cows came to me every day for water. When I found out who their owner was I told him the story.

"'I am ashamed to think that my cows had to go away from home to find water to drink,' he said. 'In future I will see that they have fresh water in their own pasture.'"