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- The Road to Love




FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. ROVER'S DUTY. Little girls and boys should always heed the advice of father and mother, as well as little dogs. You will see in this story that if Rover had listened to Tiger he would be strong and well now. "Your duty," growled Tiger, the old father dog, one evening, "is to stay at home at night and guard the place, but, instead, you go rov- ing about where you have no business to lie. Why, only last night a man had come up fie paddock and through the garden gate, and had even knocked at the door, before I woke up and was able to let people know about it I am get. ting old now, and hard of hearing; it is time you took my place instead of roving abroad." "Yah! Yah!" snapped Rover, shewing his teeth and bristling up in defiance, as he stalked away to unearth a bone which he had "planted" some time before for future enjoyment. "Tiger was a good old dog. He had served his time faithfully, but was now too old to do much more than sleep. Rover was young and foolish, and a rover by nature as well as by name. Night came on, a beautiful moonlight night, so calm and still, except for the occasional cry of an owl. Good old Tiger was sleeping peacefully. Rover had disappeared, gone forth, as usual. on his night wanderings. Suddenly the stillness was broken by the sound of two quick shots fired, followed by the yelp as of a dog in pain. Tiger woke up and began to howl and bark mournfully. He knew the meaning of the shots. A neighbour had complained of his sheep and cattle being wor- ried at night by stray dogs, and he had sig- nified his intention of lying in wait for them some night with a gun. Next morning, said to relate, Rover was found by the doorstep, dead. He had been wounded and had just managed to crawl home to die. If he had not got into the bad company of stray mongrels he would net have been killed. Poor Rover! If he had but listened to faith- ful old Tiger! HOW SHE GOT IT. A little girl was sent by her mother to the grocer' store with a jug for a quart of vinegar. "But, maanma," said the little one, "I can't say that wqrd!" "But you must try," said the mother; "for I must have vinegar, and there's no one else to send. So the little girl went, with the jug, and, as she reached the counter of the shop, she pulled the lid of the jug up with a pop, swung the jug on the counter with a thud, and said to the astonished grocer: "There Smell of that and give me a quart!" MUST BE MARGARINE. They were seated round the family tea-table -r)apa, mamma, little Nora, little Mary, and little Margery—tucking away at watercress and currant-buns as hard as they could go. The conversation-I n between the bites-turned to Ireland, and little Nora asked papa what her name was in Irish. "Noreen," said papa. "And what is mine?" inquired little Mary. "Maureen." "And mine?" clamoured little Margery. "Oh," answered papa, "I don't know what yours is!" "Well," reflected the little girl, "if Nora is Noreen, and Mary Marreen, I suppose I must be Margarine!"