"The camel is sometimes called the ship of the desert," said one of the little boys.

"Let Agamemnon speak first," said Mr. Peterkin, "he was a week in college and ought to know."

"The fore legs of the camelopard," began Agamemnon, "are much longer than the hind legs, which are very short."

"It must look like a rabbit," said Mrs. Peterkin.

"Yes, Mamma," they all said.

But then," said Solomon John, "I think the fore legs of the rabbit are short, and the hinder ones long."

"We can easily see," said Mr. Peterkin; "we can go and look at our own rabbits."

Yes," cried the little boys," "let us all go and see our rabbits." So they went to the rabbit-hutch, at the very end of the garden.

You are right," said Mrs. Peterkin, "their hind legs are long. How very singular an animal must look made the other way."

On the way back through the garden Mr. Peterkin asked some more about the camelopard or giraffe. "It feeds on the leaves of trees," said Solomon John. "It is tall enough to crop them."

Mrs. Peterkin stopped and exclaimed, "An animal like a rabbit turned the other way, tall enough to feed on the leaves of trees! Solomon John, you must be mistaken!"

"The trees in their country," said Elizabeth Eliza, "are not so high, perhaps."

"Do let us go and see," cried the little boys impatiently.

"Well," said Mr. Peterkin, "perhaps we had not better wait any longer."

They all went out into the street, and walked. along in a row. There was a great crowd inside the tent, and Elizabeth Eliza thought she

heard bears roar.

The little boys stopped the

first thing to see the monkeys.

66

Papa," they asked, "do not monkeys usually have grinding organs?”

"I have seen them with grinding organs in the streets," said Mr. Peterkin, "but I should not expect it in a menagerie.”

Mrs. Peterkin passed on to the ostrich. Is this the giraffe?" she asked of the keeper.

That is the ostrich; don't you see it is a bird?" cried Agamemnon.

Let us stop and look at it," said Mr. Peterkin.

"It does look like a camel, ma'am," said the keeper; and, like the camel, it inhabits the desert. It will eat leather, grass, hair, iron, stones, or any thing that is given to it, and its eggs weigh over fifteen pounds."

Dear me, how useful!" said Mrs. Peterkin. "I think we might keep one to eat up our broken crockery, and one egg would last for a week; and what a treasure to have at Thanksgiving!" They soon came to the giraffe. "It is a tall animal," exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin.

"It must be hard to ride him," said Solomon John, "there is such a slope from his head to his tail."

"He is quite different from a rabbit," said Mrs. Peterkin, "there is such a difference in the

length of the legs, and this animal is very much. taller than the rabbit."

The Peterkins staid at the menagerie till it was dark, asking many questions, and wondering at the strange animals they saw. At last, when they were outside the tent again, they counted up the children and found the little boys were missing. They all turned back to look for them. No little boys were found.

Mrs. Peterkin stopped a long time in front of the tiger's cage; the tiger looked quite wicked enough to have eaten the little boys, but the keeper explained to her that they could not have got in between the wires.

Elizabeth looked closely among the monkeys, but could not find the little boys. She would have known them by their rubber boots. A number of stray little boys were brought to her, but they were not the right ones. She was filled with the blackest fears, and wanted to sit right down and cry; but the postmaster came along, and persuaded Mrs. Peterkin to go home.

Meanwhile, the postmaster and Mr. Peterkin were to walk around the inclosure, and two policemen were to pass through the middle. This was done, and the parties met in a place behind the tent of the two-headed woman. And just there, sitting on a log, were the two little boys, each eating an apple tart,

F A.-12.

49. MARY WHO HAD THE LITTLE LAMB.

MOST of our young readers will be surprised to hear that the well-known nursery song of Mary had a little Lamb," is a true story, and that Mary is still living. About seventy years ago she was a little girl, the daughter of a farmer in Worcester county, Massachusetts.

She was very fond of going with her father to the fields to see the sheep. One day they found a baby lamb which was thought to be dead. Kind-hearted little Mary, however, lifted it up in her arms, and as it seemed to breathe, she carried it home, made it a warm bed near the stove, and nursed it tenderly.