"There are good people in the world, are there not, old fellow? And it certainly was one of them who put this trough here for poor beasts like you to drink from. Well, you are thirsty, to be sure! Don't you mean to leave a drop there? What do you think the next donkey that comes along will do? [Illustration] "Ah, you prick up your ears, and wink your eye, as much as to say, 'Never you fear about that, my friend. There's no danger of my drinking all there is in this trough, and you know as well as I that there is plenty more water in the spring where this came from.' "So at last, then, you have enough," added the farmer, as Billy lifted his dripping nose from the water. "Come on then, long ears: we have another hill to climb, you know, and wife wants some of this meal to make a corn-cake for supper." And Billy started on briskly, as if he knew well what supper meant, and thought he should have a share of corn-cake too. UNCLE CHARLES. A DEFIANCE. KING of the barn-yard here am I. If any bird my power deny, That bird to combat I defy; I raise my ancient battle cry, Resolved to conquer or to die. Who has the rashness to reply? CHANTICLEER. [Illustration] [Illustration] ABOUT WINDMILLS. "PAPA, what is that funny-looking house, with that great whirligig going round and round on it?" said Charlie to his father, pointing to this picture. "That is a windmill," his father answered. "I don't wonder you call those long arms a whirligig, for they whirl round very swiftly when the wind blows. "But they do not go round and round for nothing, as your toy whirligigs do. They are busy at work, turning a great wheel inside the mill; and the wheel is busy grinding corn into meal. "There are not many windmills to be seen in our country; but if you should go to Holland, you would see them in all directions. Holland is a very flat country and has no swift rivers to turn the mill-wheels, so the wind has to do the work instead. "There are said to be ten thousand windmills there. The arms of some are a hundred feet long." "I should like to see them," said Charlie. "Will you not take me there sometime, papa?" "Perhaps," said his father, "but you are a small boy yet, and have much to see and learn at home first." ALFRED STETSON. ANNIE'S GIFT. ANNIE FAY had been taking a walk, one winter day, with her mother. On their way they had stopped to see her grandmother, and she had given Annie a large apple to take home. But just before reaching the house, they saw a forlorn-looking girl with her apron full of dry twigs which she had been picking by the roadside. She was thinly dressed, and looked pale and sad. Annie's heart was touched at the sight. "Oh, mamma!" she said, "how tired and cold and hungry that poor girl looks! May I give her my apple?"