Mr. Brisk was looking at the barrels and the caps of his gun to see if all was right; then he said to uncle Ralph, "You and Tom had better stay here; for too many of us may startle the deer." "Go on," said uncle Ralph. "Be quick, or you will lose your chance." Mr. Brisk started for the brook, treading carefully, so as not to make a noise. No sooner was he gone than uncle Ralph seized me by the collar, and said, "Now, you young scapegrace, come along with me, and help me save the life of that deer." The old gentleman was in earnest. He could not bear to see life destroyed, whether of bird or beast. He lived on vegetables and fruits, and believed that the lower animals have souls. We took a by-path to the brook, and there found the deer quietly grazing. Just as Mr. Brisk was preparing to fire, uncle Ralph threw a stone at the deer, and sent him off on a fast gallop through the woods. "Hallo! What did you do that for?" asked Mr. Brisk. "I did it so that you should not have a venison dinner," said uncle Ralph, laughing. Mr. Brisk was pretty mad at first; but at last he joined in the laugh, and we all had a good feast on strawberries instead Of Venison. THOMAS STAFFORD. [Illustration] [Illustration] BABY READING TO HER MOTHER. She is tired of her dolly, and tired of her play, And she thinks she will read to her mother to-day. So, seated on the carpet, this little Kitty Brown Reads story after story, though the book is upside down. M.D.B. NOW, AND THEN. "Well, well, well!" said grandmamma, "Only to see the toys,-- The marvels of skill and of beauty, That are made for these girls and boys!-- Velocipedes, acrobats, barrows, And a dozen kinds of ball, And the beautiful bows and arrows, With quivers and belts and all; And dolls, with an outfit from Paris, With eyes that open and shut, With jewelry worth a small fortune, And six several bonnets,--_tut, tut!_ "My goodness! If Polly and Rachel, Who played in old times with me, In the corner down by the smoke-house, These wonderful dolls could see! Rachel's doll had a round head whittled From a bit of soft pine wood; And Polly's was only a corn-cob, With a calico slip and hood. My doll was a lovely rag-baby, With badly-inked eyes and nose; Her cheeks were painted with cherry-juice; And I made every stitch of her clothes. "Nathan's bow was a pliant whalebone, And his arrow a white-pine stick; Such a life as his archery practice Led the cats and each wretched chick! Our tea-sets were bits of dishes That mother had thrown away, With chincapin saucers and acorn-cups; And our dolls slept on moss and hay. With a May-apple leaf for a parasol We played 'Lady-come-to-see,' Polly's house was the kitchen door-step, And mine was the apple-tree.