He picked up a wood-louse, and laid it gently in his little hand. There, said he, you see the wood-louse roll itself into a little ball, like a pea: let it lie awhile and when it thinks that you do not observe it— _Boy._ Ah! it unrolls.—O! it will run away: shall I not hold it? _Father._ No, my dear, you would hurt it. _Boy._ I would not hurt any creature. _Father._ No! surely—He who made you, made all creatures to be happy. [Illustration: Bird] THE BIRD. A boy was walking with his mother; he saw a bird fly past, with some food in its mouth. _Boy._ Is not that bird hungry? for I see that he carries his meat fast in his mouth. _Mother._ She is a mother bird, and has young ones in her nest. _Boy._ Who makes the nest? _Mother._ The old birds. _Boy._ How do they make the nests? _Mother._ Some make their nests of sticks; some of dry leaves; some use clay; some straw: they use all sorts of things; each kind of bird knows what is fit for its use. _Boy._ What do they make nests for? _Mother._ To nurse their young in. _Boy._ And are they warm? _Mother._ The old birds line them with moss, with wool, or with feathers, to make them warm and soft. _Boy._ Where do they get all these things? _Mother._ They fly a great way to fetch them; and sometimes they pluck their own breasts to supply down for their young to lie upon. _Boy._ How kind they are! _Mother._ So kind are good parents to their children. _Boy._ Pray why do the birds sing? _Mother._ One old bird sings whilst one sits on the eggs. _Boy._ Why do they sit on the eggs? _Mother._ To keep them warm, so that they may hatch. _Boy._ What do you mean by that, pray, mother? _Mother._ The young birds break the shells and come out. _Boy._ What do they do then? do they fly? _Mother._ Not at first: babes, you know, cannot walk. _Boy._ But what do young birds do? _Mother._ They lie in the nests, and gape for food. _Boy._ And do they get it? _Mother._ The old birds fly far and near to fetch it. You saw one with some in its bill. _Boy._ I see a bird now with some in its mouth. _Mother._ Do not make a noise, lest you fright the poor thing.—Hush! hush!—let us creep gently, and see the bird go to her nest. _They saw the bird alight on a bush just by: she hopped from twig to twig till she got to the nest: she gave the little worm which she had in her beak to her young, and then flew away in search of more._ _Boy._ Now may I talk? _Mother._ Yes, my dear;—are you not pleased to see the birds? _Boy._ Yes, mother.—When will the little ones fly? _Mother._ When they have got all their feathers. _Boy._ How will they learn? _Mother._ The old birds will teach them to fly as I taught you to walk. _Boy._ I hope the little birds will always love their mothers. I shall always love you; mother, pray kiss me. [Illustration: Sheep] THE HAPPY FAMILY.