While yet a child, no bigger than some of the young-readers of "The Nursery," he showed a great taste for drawing. He had an especial fondness for drawing animals. His father encouraged him by giving him pictures to copy; and soon his skill in copying became so great that his father took him into the fields, and taught him to draw animals from life. In this way he soon acquired correct notions of color; and, at the age of fourteen, he began to attract attention by his spirited paintings of dogs, horses, and other animals. He continued to improve until he became one of the most celebrated artists of his day. In 1850, he was knighted by Queen Victoria, that is to say, he received the honorary title of _Sir_ Edwin Landseer. Mr. Harrison Weir, whose name is well known to our readers, is another English artist, who makes a specialty of the same department of art in which Landseer became so famous. His sketches are remarkable for their truth to nature, and many of them would do no discredit to Landseer himself. Lay a piece of thin paper over the drawing-lesson, and trace the lines of the picture. After a little practice, try to copy it without-tracing. [Illustration: From Sir Edwin Landseer's painting. In outline by Mr. Harrison Weir, as a drawing lesson.] A SMART HORSE. One morning, when the men went to the stable, our horse, Jenny, was missing from her stall. On looking around, they found her in another room, eating meal out of a chest. Now, in order to do this thing, she must not only have untied her halter, but have unfastened and opened a door, and raised the lid of the chest; all of which were supposed to have been left safely closed. We thought that she could not have done it all, but that some careless person had left the chest open, and the door unfastened. So Jenny was led back to her stall and tied up; the lid of the chest was shut down, and the door closed and fastened with a hook. About an hour afterwards, on entering the stable again, Madam Jenny was found as before, with her nose deep in the meal-chest, munching away with great relish. Then we _knew_ she must have unhooked and opened the door, and raised the cover, as well as unhooked her halter. Do you not think she was pretty smart for a horse? Papa says it was more smart than honest to steal meal in that way. But I suppose horses do not know much about honesty. I liked Jenny all the better for her smartness, and I have made a great pet of her since. As she is so fond of meal, I take care to give her so much that she will not have to steal it. She comes to me when I call her; for she knows that I am her friend, and she often gets an apple from my hand. She looks at me so kindly through her great eyes, that I am sure she would thank me if she could speak. This is a real true story. MARY. ABOUT SOME INDIANS.