Kate and Jane have the care of the biddies. They feed them with corn every day. The hens flock around the door as soon as the two girls come out. Kate and Jane both say that the hens are fond of them; but I think they are still more fond of the corn. A. B. C. [Illustration] DODGER. DODGER is a full-blooded Scotch terrier. His eyes are the brightest of all bright eyes; and he acts just as one might suppose from his name. He dodges here and there,--under the sofa, and behind the stove, and up in a chair, and sometimes puts his paws up on the baby's cradle. The other day, the baby's red sock dropped off from his foot; and Dodger slyly picked it up, and, going to a corner of the room, ate off the red tassels that were on it. I don't think he will do it again; for he did not act as though they tasted very good. Dodger has many cunning ways. He will bring his master's slippers, sit up straight, pretend to be dead, and do many other funny things. Just now his master is trying to teach him to shut a door. Dodger belongs to a little boy in Hartford, Conn., who has read "The Nursery" for five years. The little boy's name is Georgie, and I am GEORGIE'S MAMMA. THE MOTHER-HEN. BY the side of my home a river runs; and down close by the banks of it lives a good family named Allen. Mr. Allen keeps a large number of hens and ducks. One old hen had twice been put to sit on ducks' eggs, and hatched two broods of ducks. The first brood she hatched took to the water as soon as they saw it, as all little ducks will. The old hen was almost crazy at such behavior on the part of her chicks, and flew down to the water's edge, clucking and calling at a great rate. However,--to her great surprise, probably,--they all came safely to land. Every day after that, when the little ducks went for a swim, their hen-mother walked nervously back and forth on the shore, and was not easy till they came out of the water. By and by, after those ducks had all grown large, the hen hatched another brood. These, too, at first sight of the water, went in for a swim. The old hen was not quite as frightened as before, but stood and looked at them, clucking a little to herself, as if to say, "Strange chickens these of mine; but yet, if they like it, I don't know as I need care, so long as they don't ask me to go with them." So, after a while, that brood grew to be big ducks. One day last summer, as I sat on the bank of the river, looking at the pretty blue rippling water, who should come walking proudly down to the water's-edge but, Mrs. Hen with another brood of little, waddling, yellow ducks behind her! She led them clear to the edge of the water, saw them start off, and, turning away, went contentedly to scratching at some weeds on the shore, taking no more notice of her little family. She had come to regard this swimming business as a matter of course.