My papa used to go to Boston every day and return at evening on the horse-cars, and Tiger could usually be found at the gate to meet him. Although these cars were constantly passing the house, Tiger never made the mistake of going to meet an earlier or a later train, but a few minutes before the customary time for my papa’s arrival, Tiger could be seen going leisurely down the walk to be in readiness for the expected greeting. At last Tiger commenced to get old, and did not like the active sports of his youthful days, but much preferred to stay in the house and lie by the fire. Being fond of the company of the family, he would often creep into the sitting-room, and quietly settle himself on the hearth-rug, when mamma would sometimes say, “There is some one here whose room is better than his company.” Without another word Tiger would get up, and, with tail down, and a sidelong glance at mamma, he would sneak, in a crestfallen manner, to the door to be let out. Finally when he got to be quite old he was sick and died, and it was one of the sad days of my childhood, when we buried him under the apple-tree in the orchard. CORA E. DIKE. GRANDFATHER. “GRANDFATHER” is the name of an old parrot, owned by Mr. W. H. Seward, Jr., of New York. This parrot has been a great traveller in his day, but now lives quiet at his home on the Hudson River. His master is very fond of him, and so are all the family; and he is the pet of all visitors who go to the house. Several years ago, when there was a dreadful war in our beloved country, Mr. Seward lived in Washington, where his father then held the office of Secretary of State. At that time the “John Brown Song” was all the rage. The very boys in the street would sing, as they went along, “John Brown’s body lies moldering in the grave,” and other lines, ending with the chorus, “Glory, hallelujah!” “Grandfather” would listen and try to sing it; but all he could learn was the “Glory, hallelujah!” which amused the family very much. After a while he seemed to forget even this, although he learned many new things. Many years passed. Mr. Seward had gone to his own home on the Hudson River. The war was over, and the old campaign song of “John Brown” had passed out of the people’s minds. The aunt of Mr. Seward, who had lived with him in Washington, and had not seen the parrot since, came to make the family a visit; and in asking after the health of all of them, said, “Don’t tell ‘Grandfather’ I’ve come; I want to see if he will remember me.” Then she went into the room where the parrot’s cage hung, and going up to it, said “Good-morning, ‘Grandfather.’ How do you do? Do you know me?” “Glory, hallelujah!” said he. —_The Nursery._ THE POPLAR ST. PANSY SOCIETY. BY C. M. L. CHAPTER II.