"Inner!" said grandma. "What does that mean? Some new expression. I have no doubt, which I never before heard; but an old lady of eighty years can't be expected to keep up with the times. It's something dreadful, of course." But what was the old lady's surprise when the boys threw aside their blue jackets, and two of them began to throw the "stone" back and forth, one to the other; while the third boy stood between, striking at it as it flew through the air, and sometimes hitting it and sometimes not. There they staid all the afternoon doing the same thing. "Why," said grandma, putting on her glasses, and looking more closely. "I declare! they're only playing ball, after all. Well, I'm glad they're not so cruel as I thought them. They are such pretty little boys, and have such pretty red stockings too!" "But," said she, after a long pause, "there is still one thing that troubles me. Where is the 'old cat'?" MATTIE B. BANKS. WHAT IS THE HORSE DOING? CAN any one of my young readers guess from the picture what the horse is doing to the dog? Do not read the rest of my story till you have tried to answer this question. Some boys had placed in a field a snare by which they hoped to catch a rabbit. It was a sort of noose made of coarse, twisted grass. Fido, the dog, put one of his forefeet in the noose, and in trying to get away his leg was doubled up by it. [Illustration] He limped off howling to his friend Hero, an old horse that was grazing near by. Fido lifted up his leg, and Hero at once saw what was the matter. But Hero had no knife with which to cut the noose. What could he do? He did not stay long in doubt. He put down his head, and began to gnaw at the noose. Taking good care not to bite Fido, he nibbled at the wisp of twisted grass till it dropped off, and the good dog was free. You should have seen Fido as he scampered round, jumped up, and barked at his old friend. "Barked at him?" Yes; but it was all in play, as much as to say, "You dear old Hero! How I thank you! I will do as much for you, should you ever get into trouble. Bow, wow, wow!" And Hero galloped round, and threw up his heels, but took good care not to hit his friend Fido. Each seemed to be glad in the feeling that a kind act had been done. This is a true story, and Mr. Harrison Weir has told it well in his drawing. UNCLE CHARLES. A QUEER KITTEN. CHRISTMAS-DAY, in her stocking, Our Marion found a prize,-- A dear little spotted kitten With wonderful bright blue eyes; With fur that was fluffy as cotton, Yellow and white and gray, With paws that were soft as velvet, And brimful of fun and play. She looked at her little mistress, And loved her, it seemed, at sight; For she climbed on Marion's shoulder, Purring with all her might,--