Cinderella | Page 9

said Harry, "I knew it was mice made that noise. How I wish I could catch them."
The next morning he told his mother about the noises he had heard.
"I will get you a mouse-trap," she said.
"I don't want the kind that kills the mice, I only want to catch them and tame them," said Harry.
His mother laughed and told him when he had tamed his mice he must keep them well out of her way.
The trap was set, the mice were caught, and sure enough, in a short time were so tame they would eat from Harry's hand. He made a little house for them, and kept in it his bedroom. Whenever he went out, he always shut the door carefully.
Now it happened that among Harry's acquaintances, there was one very disagreeable boy. His name was Dick Taft. Harry did not play with him very often, for he was so ugly it was hard to get along with him.
Dick never liked to be beaten at any game, and sometimes made it very uncomfortable for the one who got ahead of him.
One day Harry happened to beat him at one of their school games. Dick called after him when it was over, "I'll pay you for this, see if I don't."
Harry only laughed as he walked away going in the opposite direction from his own house.
When he was out of sight, Dick ran to Harry's house, made some excuse to go up in his bedroom, and let in the big cat, who was eagerly watching outside.
When Harry came home, the mouse house was open, and not one of his pets was to be seen. The poor fellow was almost heart-broken. He asked every one in the house who had left his door open. The maid told him she thought it must have been that boy he sent up to his room.
She described the boy, and Harry knew in a moment that it was Dick Taft.
"So that is the way he paid me for beating him at a game," cried Harry. "Well, never again, so long as I live, will I play with a boy who is mean enough to do such a trick as that."
And he kept his word.

A NAUGHTY PUMPKIN'S FATE.
A queer little pumpkin, a jolly fat fellow, Stood close to his mother so rotund and yellow. "What a stupid old place! how I long to aspire," Cried he, "I was destined for something much higher."
"My son," said the mother, "pray do be content, There's great satisfaction in life that's well spent!" But he shrugged up his shoulders, this pumpkin, 't is true, And acted just like some bad children will do.
With a shout and a whoop, in the garden they ran, Tom and Ned, for they'd thought of the loveliest plan To astonish their friends from the city, you see, With a fine Jack-o'-lantern--"Ah, this one suits me!"
Neddie seized the bad pumpkin, and dug out his brains, Till he felt so light-headed and brimful of pains; Then two eyes, a long nose, and a mouth big and wide, They cut in a minute, and laid him aside
Until night, when they hung him upon a stout limb, With a candle inside; how his poor head did swim, As they twisted him this way, then twirled him round that, Till at last, with a crash, he fell on the ground flat,
A wreck of the once jolly, fat little fellow, Who stood by his mother so rotund and yellow. Just then a lean cow, who was passing that way, Ate him up, just to finish HER "Thanksgiving Day."

SOMETHING ABOUT FIRES.
It was a cold day. Fred was tired of reading, tired of looking out of the window, and so he poked the fire for a change.
"I suppose there are a good many different sorts of fires," he said to his mamma, as he laid down the poker.
"Yes, indeed," she answered. "It is very interesting to know how people keep warm in all parts of the world, especially where fuel is scarce and dear. In Iceland, for example, fires are often made of fish-bones! Think of that. In Holland and other countries a kind of turf called peat is dug up in great quantities and used for fuel. And in France a coarse yellow and brown sea-weed, which is found in Finistere, is carefully dried and piled up for winter use. A false log, resembling wood, but made of some composition which does not consume, is often used in that country. It absorbs and throws out the heat, and adds to the looks of the hearth and to the comfort of the room.
"The French have also a movable stove, which can be wheeled from room to room, or even carried up or down stairs while full of burning coke. In Russia the poorer people