Here, little Alice, growing slightly jealous, exclaimed, "Did you like her better than you do mamma?" "Oh, no! not _better_, but _full as well_," answered her father. After supper, the chairs were brought in, much to the surprise and delight of Jennie and Alice, who both joyfully exclaimed, "O papa! you meant us!" D. [Illustration] THE PROPER TIME. "Will you play with me? Will you play with me?" A little girl said to the birds on a tree. "Oh, we have our nests to build," said they: "There's a time for work, and a time for play." Then, meeting a dog, she cried, "Halloo! Come play with me, Jip, and do as I do." Said he, "I must watch the orchard to-day: There's a time for work, and a time for play." A boy she saw; and to him she cried, "Come, play with me, John, by the greenwood side." "Oh, no!" said John, "I've my lesson to say: There's a time for work, and a time for play." Then thoughtful a while stood the little miss, And said, "It is hard, on a day like this, To go to work; but, from what they all say, 'Tis a time for work, and not for play." So homeward she went, and took her book, And first at the pictures began to look; Then said, "I think I will study to-day: There's a time for work, and a time for play." EMILY CARTER. OUR DOG MILO. Milo was the name of a fine Spanish pointer. He had such an expressive face, such delicate ears, and such wise eyes, that you could not help looking at him. And then he could stand up so cleverly on his hind-legs, dressed in his little red coat and cap! An old beggar-woman, whose eyesight was not very good, once took him for a boy, and thanked the "little man," as she called him, for a present which we boys had trained him to go through the form of offering. He had belonged to a travelling company of jugglers and rope-dancers, by whom he had been taught various tricks, though he had been made to undergo much hard treatment. He could fire off a pistol, stand on guard as a sentinel, beat a drum, and serve as a horse for the monkeys of the show. This last piece of work poor Milo did not at all like. The monkeys would scratch and plague him; and, if he resented it, he would be whipped. His worst enemy was a little monkey named Jocko, who delighted to torment him. [Illustration] At last, we boys talked so much to our good papa about Milo, that he bought him of the jugglers. How happy we were when we got possession of him! Poor Milo seemed to be aware of our kind act. After that, it seemed as if he could not do too much to show his gratitude. How patiently he would stand on his legs, or march with us in our mimic ranks as a soldier, when we went forth to battle! In all our plays we could not do without Milo. He would stand on guard beside our camp; and he it was who always had to fire the pistol when a deserter was to be shot.