"Well, you may take mine, Rosy, And play with her: I know You will be very gentle, Because I love her so. She's but a common dolly, She has a simple dress; But then to me she's pretty, I love her none the less. I have one place to keep her,-- The closet's lowest shelf: With mother's help I'm learning To make her clothes myself. I kiss her and caress her, And, when the daylight flies, I tenderly undress her, And sing her lullabies. Kate's doll is fine to look at, All decked with lace and gold; But mine's the dearest dolly In all this world to hold." MARIAN DOUGLAS. [Illustration] THE FAITHFUL SENTINEL. WHEN there is war, the safety of an army may depend on the quickness and courage of one sentinel. If he sleeps at his post, he is shot. The sentinel I am to tell you about never fell asleep on duty, never ran away from an enemy, carried no musket, and wore no uniform. It was more than a hundred years ago that this trusted guard did duty; and when he died, not a drum was heard, and no soldiers fired a volley over his grave. You cannot find his name on the roll of enlisted men; and yet no soldier was ever more faithful. There was war with the Indians at the time of which I write, and a family of settlers lived in what is now the State of Maine, on the bank of the River Androscoggin. One day the children of the family went down by the river to pick berries. With the little party of boys and girls went the family dog. He was trained to follow the trail of Indians, and to give warning of their approach. The watchful dog took his place, like a sentinel, near the children, while they ran about from bush to bush, eating more berries than went into the pail. Suddenly the dog gave a low growl, and looked angrily toward a heap of brush at the edge of the woods. The children knew what that meant, and, without waiting to see what the danger was, they ran at once towards the block-house. The faithful dog did not run, but stood on guard to meet the Indian whom he had seen coming from the thicket. It was not far to the house; and the children were soon in a place of safety, while the Indian skulked back to the woods. [Illustration] Several years after, when the war was all over, this very same Indian came that way, and talked with the children. They treated him kindly, and he became their good friend. But he often told them of the danger they all were in, that afternoon, when the good dog gave them such timely warning. The dog lived to a good old age, and was loved and petted by the family as long as he lived; and to this day the descendants of Enoch and Esther, Martha and Samuel, the children saved by the dog, tell the story that I have related, and speak gratefully of the faithful sentinel. GEORGE T. PACKARD. BRUCE AND OLD SHEEPY.