AAN English terrier, despoiled of her litter of puppies, wandered around quite inconsolable. A brood of ducklings one day attracted her attention. Notwithstanding their quacks of protest, she seized them in her mouth, bore them to her kennel, and with the most affectionate anxiety followed them about, giving them, in her own fashion, a mother's care.

When the ducklings at length took to water, her alarm knew no bounds. "You dreadful children," her sharp barks seemed to say when they returned to land, and taking them in her mouth bore them one by one back to safety, as she thought, to the kennel.

The year following, when again deprived of her puppies, she adopted two cock-chickens, rearing them with the same care she had bestowed upon the ducklings. Their voices, however, when they grew older, greatly annoyed her, and by various means their foster-mother endeavored to stifle their crowing.

A hen that had selected an unused manger in which to lay her eggs, and rear her brood, found that the barn cat had also selected the same place in which to pass her hours of repose. The hen made no objection to the presence of Mrs. Tabby, and vice-verse, so that a strong frendship in time grew up between the two.

Things went on very smoothly, the hen placidly sitting on her eggs, while Mrs. Tabby came and went at will, spending at least half her time beside her companion as friendly as though she were a sister cat.

Vainly did the hen sit, vainly did she turn her eggs. All the warmth in the world would not have hatched a chick from the stale eggs beneath her.

Mrs. Tabby, however, had better luck. To the hen's amazement she found beneath her very nose one morning five squirming furry little creatures which might have been chicks but were not. Certainly they were young of some sort, she reflected, and with true motherly instinct she lent her aid to their proper bringing up.

The kittens thrived, but unfortunately, when still of tender age were deprived, by death of their mother. All but one of her offspring found comfortable homes elsewhere, and that one received the devoted attention of the hen during the whole of that summer.

"To see it going between the house and barn clucking for the kitten," says Dr. Beadner in Our Animal Friends, "was indeed a funny sight, and quite as remarkable to see the kitten run to her when she made the peculiar call that chickens understand means something to eat. At night and during the resting hours of the daytime, kittie would crawl under the warm wings of her foster mother; and the brooding hen and her nestling kitten were happy and contented, little dreaming and caring less that they were so far from being related to each other."