“and I’m going up toward the big 
house to stay until the weather gets 
cold.” 
“Mrs. Field Cricket has two hundred 
eggs right here under this long grass,” 
he answered with great pride. “She is 
welcome,” returned his cousin; “ for 
my part I prefer quality to quantity.” 
And she turned away to take a peep at 
the nursery which was warmed and 
nourished only by the sun. 
“They will soon hatch out and dig 
homes each for himself like my own 
little ones,’ she said as she left them 
and began her long journey toward the 
farmhouse. “But mine will be wise 
enough to get near to a barn or house 
when they are grown up,” she mused, 
‘so that they need not sleep all winter, 
and they can be busy and useful to the 
world—busy, useful, cheerful, hopeful.” 
She stopped to say one or the other of 
these good words often as she traveled 
on and sometimes she said them all at 
which when folded, extended beyond 
her body into long, slender filaments 
like the antenne. 
At length, just as the maple leaves, 
all brown and dry, were blowing into 
heaps against the rosebushes and the 
lilacs, Mrs. Acre Tidae reached the 
farmhouse and slipped unobserved into 
the warm, clean kitchen. 
She found a wide crack in the floor 
near the big chimney and squeezed in, 
digging it out to suit her body. 
‘The babies are all safe in their little 
holes by this time,” she said, ‘‘ safe for 
the winter. Perhaps by next fall they 
will be with me and we will all go out 
at night to eat crumbs,” and she began 
singing, ‘‘ Useful, cheerful—busy, hope- 
ful a Wokhearatne! erickekae sate 
Linsey, “It sounds like the one in the 
old log house.” 
“They are all alike, I guess,” returned 
Harry, who was eating apples.” ‘‘ They 
are always jollysad, I reckon.” ‘ Use-ful, 
cheer- ful, hope-ful,” sang Mrs. Cricket. 
ANIMALS AS PATIENTS. 
one time, as she pruned her wings 
LEPINAY, the presiding 
M genius of the bird hospital in 
» Paris, has found by experience 
that his feathered patients 
chiefly exhibit a tendency toward apo- 
plexy—the dove is particularly ad- 
dicted to this complaint; consumption 
follows in order of unpopularity, with 
internal complaints occupying the third 
place. In the case of apoplexy, blood- 
letting—so popular a remedy in the 
days of our great-grandparents—is re- 
sorted to by means of a diminutive 
lancet inserted in a fleshy portion of 
the bird, and this is followed by small 
doses of such drugs as quinine, bro- 
mide of camphor, etc. 
Apropos of dog’s teeth, about a year 
ago there was exhibited at a certain 
show a very interesting and aged 
schipperke, who was at that time the 
only dog in the world boasting a com- 
plete set of false teeth. His owner, 
Mr. Moseley, is a dentist as well as a 
lover of animals, and it is entirely due 
to his skill that the little dog is able 
to eat with perfect comfort by the aid 
of the artificial molars provided for 
him by his master, who, on another 
occasion, provided a dog who had lost 
a limb in an accident with an artificial 
leg. The only horse possessing a full 
set of false teeth was the property of 
Mr. Henry Lloyd of Louisville, Ky., 
who had its diseased teeth extracted 
and replaced by a set of false ones. 
A swan that had had a leg run over 
by a cart-wheel, causing a compound 
fracture, was recently successfully 
treated at Otley, England, while yet 
another swan had an operation per- 
formed at Darlington some little time 
ago that was very much out of the 
ordinary. In this instance, the unlucky 
bird had the principal bone in its right 
wing fractured in several places, the 
fracture presumably being caused by 
a brutal blow dealt by some unknown 
ruffian. A veterinary surgeon was 
asked to give his advice, and on his 
recommendation an amputation was 
decided upon, and this he successfully 
performed. The bird, sansa wing, was, 
when last heard of, well on the road to 
recovery. 
