One morning, early in the winter, Amos went into the woods to look at two of his traps. As he came near the first one, he saw that a fine mountain mink was caught in it. The poor creature was struggling to escape, but the teeth of the trap held its leg so firmly that the more it tried to get away, the more cruelly its flesh was torn.

Amos ran toward the trap, when suddenly his foot slipped, and he was thrown violently to the ground. He felt a sharp pain in his ankle, which was held fast so that he could not move. He was caught in the other trap, which, in his excitement, he had forgotten.

He was not frightened at first, for he thought he could easily set himself free, but the chain would not yield an inch. Soon his ankle began to swell, causing him the most intense pain when he tried to move.

The teeth of the trap pressed closer and closer into the aching flesh, and he knew that he could only wait for help to come to him.

Not far from where he lay was the mink, suffering similar agony, and after struggling in vain to set himself free Amos watched the frightened, trembling little creature. It panted with terror, uttering now and then low moans of pain.

For the first time, Amos realized how cruel he had been, and as he thought of the long hours which would pa.s.s before any one came to look for him, he wished that he might at least set his fellow-sufferer free.

"Poor little creature!" he said. "This may be a punishment for my cruelty. I know now how much pain my traps have given."

No one came and the long day went by. Night darkened, and the woods were cold and dreary. Amos was chilled through, and thought with longing of the warm fire at home. The little mink was still now. Amos hoped its sufferings were over. He almost wished that his own might end in the same way.

Suddenly, very early in the morning, there was a noise in the bushes, and a man came towards the traps. He saw at once what was the matter and ran to set the boy free.

"Now," said he, "you must get on my back and I will try to carry you home."

"Wait a minute," said Amos. "I have a fellow-prisoner there in that other trap. If he is dead, I wish you would bury him. No one shall ever have his fur to sell, and I will never catch another animal in that fashion."

The hunter walked over to the other trap and looked at the mink closely.

"I think it is still alive," he said.

"Put my comforter round it," said Amos. "I am going to take it home."

So the mink was carefully wrapped in the comforter and laid in the hunter's bag. Then they started homewards. There was great rejoicing when the missing lad appeared, and the little mink was taken out of the bag by gentle hands and kindly cared for. It became tame and affectionate, and when it was quite well again Amos took it to the mountains and let it go free.

As for the boy trapper, that was the last time that he ever set a trap for any of the creatures of the woods. "Even a cage-trap must cause much suffering from fright," Amos would say. "I shall not soon forget how terrible it is to be a prisoner."

Adapted from a story by Mrs. C. Fairchild Allen.

One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide, Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

WORDSWORTH.

THE RABBIT.

Rabbits are such gentle, pretty, furry little creatures that boys and girls like to make pets of them. A caged pet needs much more care and intelligent kindness than one that can run free, and the poor little rabbit is often made very miserable.

A boy or girl who is truly kind can take little pleasure in playing jailer to some unhappy prisoner who longs for the sunshine and green gra.s.s. Sometimes, however, the care of such a pet is forced upon one, and it is well to know how to make imprisonment as easy as possible.

The rabbit lives on vegetable food, cropping leaves and gra.s.s, and gnawing the young shoots of trees. Its teeth are beautifully adapted to the purpose. In the front of both jaws are two long, flat teeth, with, sharp edges like a chisel. As so much filing and sc.r.a.ping wear away the teeth very fast, these keep on growing from the root. Each upper front tooth meets one in the lower jaw, so that the constant rubbing against each other keeps both the right length. Sometimes one tooth is broken and the other goes on growing till it stands out like the tusk of an elephant. Then the poor rabbit, unable to gnaw its food, dies of starvation.

A tame rabbit should have carrots and turnips to gnaw, and sometimes young tree-twigs and cabbage stalks. If it has nothing hard to rub its teeth against, they will grow too fast, and the rabbit will be unable to bite anything.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN INTERESTING FAMILY. By S. J. Carter.]

In feeding tame rabbits, try to give them their green food with the dew upon it. A sprinkling of fresh water will answer the same purpose. They need plenty of water, and both food and drink must be kept fresh and sweet. Rabbits love the sunshine. They were made to live in warm, sunny lands, and they are too often shut up in cold, damp places.

A rabbit is the most timid creature in the world, but the devoted little mother will fight for her babies if she sees them in any danger. When she burrows in the warm, sandy earth to make a snug home for her family, she strips the soft fur from her own breast to line the beds of gra.s.s for her little ones to sleep in. Sometimes a mother rabbit's chest is raw and bleeding for days after making her nest. She is timid because she is so defenseless, but no one can call her a coward. Timid folk are often braver in times of real danger than the strong and daring ones.

Rabbits require variety in their food as much as we do. In summer there are many weeds which are a great treat to them. Dandelion, plantain, clover, gra.s.s and hay, with an occasional sprig of parsley, will give them much pleasure. In winter they may have carrots, turnips, and parsnips with barley meal and some oats. Too much green food is likely to make them ill, and too much grain is equally harmful. If we prevent them from finding their own food, we ought to give them the best we can, so that they may be well and happy.

DAVID'S STORY.

A man was fishing by the river. Splashes near by, round the bend, sounded now and then. David grumbled mildly to himself. Voices rose suddenly, and the splashing ceased. Presently a small boy came breaking through the bushes.

"Well, Sammy?" said David inquiringly.

"It's mean," said Sammy, in an explosive fashion. "A boy came and spoiled all my fun. Now I haven't anything to do."

"Too bad," said David. "How was it?"

"I was throwing stones at the biggest bullfrog you ever saw. That boy came along and made him jump."

"Anything else?" asked David. His voice was calmly indifferent.

"He said I was a coward," added the small boy.

"So you are!" said David. "The meanest kind of coward I know."

Sammy sat down on a flat rock to consider this astonishing remark. David drew up a lively fish, which he killed with a sharp blow on the back of its head.

"What did you do that for?" asked Sammy, glad to change the subject.

"To save his feelings," was the brief answer.

"Ho!" said Sammy contemptuously. "He hasn't any feelings."

"Nonsense!" said David in sudden wrath. "Does he wriggle? Yes. Why?

Because he suffers out of water. I've caught him to eat, and I owe it to him not to make him suffer any more than is necessary. What did that boy say to you about the frogs?"

"He said frogs were good for something in the pond."

"So they are," said David. "When they are growing up they live on the decaying weeds and the rubbish which would be dangerous if left in stagnant water. What else did he say?"

"He said they were pretty," said Sammy scornfully.

"That's true, too," said David. "That boy knew a good deal. They are as handsome as they are harmless. Did you ever know of a frog's doing any harm? Well, that's more than can be said of boys."