The Nursery, No. 106, October, 1875. Vol. XVIII. | Page 5

the hen-house or barn, like a well-mannered hen, stole off under a wood-pile, and was not seen for three weeks, when she made her appearance with a fine brood of chickens. To keep her from straying away again, she was put into a coop. For several days, she was a good mother to her children; but, after a week or so, she began to act very strangely, and, when her children came near her, she would peck and abuse them.
Would you believe it, children? in one day, this unmotherly hen had pecked all but one of her chickens to death; and, when Aunt Jane found this poor chap, he had but one eye, and all the toes were gone from one foot; so that he had to stand on the other. At first, Aunt Jane thought it would be a mercy to kill the little fellow, and put him out of pain; but she finally determined that she would try to cure him.
So she took him into the kitchen, and made him quite comfortable in a box half filled with cotton-batting, and placed near the stove. She gave him cracked-corn to eat, and plenty of water to drink, and, after a while, he got so strong, that he hopped out of the box, and was just as jolly a chicken as he could be, with only one eye to see with, and only one foot and the stump of another to walk on.
Still he would not go out and play with other chickens of his age, but persisted in hanging around the kitchen. One morning, when Aunt Jane went into the breakfast-room, she found him on the table, helping himself from a dish of stewed potatoes. Such impudence could no longer be tolerated: so the saucy little cripple was banished to the barnyard to learn manners.
And what do you think became of the unmotherly hen? She lost all her friends. She was despised and hated by everybody on the farm. She was pointed at as "that cruel, speckled hen," until life became a burden to her. She was not permitted to have any more chickens. When the cold weather came, she was sent to a poor woman for a thanksgiving dinner; and it is to be hoped that all the hens in the barnyard took warning from her fate.
C.R.W. LANSINGBURGH. N.Y.
[Illustration: Outline Drawing by MR. HARRISON WEIR, as a drawing lesson.]

THE CHILDREN'S VISIT TO THE LIGHTHOUSE.
Charlie and Georgie were staying at Appledore, one of the Isles of Shoals, and, with two other little children, had many nice times fishing and sailing.
The lighthouse is on White Island, which, as you see in the picture, is a lonely and rocky place. It would be very dangerous for any ship to come in from sea on that part of the coast, if it were not for the friendly warning of the brilliant light.
One warm, sunny morning, Charlie and Georgie, with their papa and mamma, and their two little friends, rowed across from Appledore, and landed on the pebbly beach of White Island. Here the children ran about, and picked up stones until they were tired; and then the whole party seated themselves on some shaded rocks, and ate their lunch of crackers and bananas.
While they were eating, an old white dog, belonging to the lighthouse keeper, came up and made their acquaintance. Georgie shared his cake with him; and it was amusing to see the old dog watching with eager eyes every piece that went into any mouth but his own.
When lunch was over, the two older children, Charlie and Anna, led the way; and all were soon climbing the winding stairs in the lighthouse tower. When they reached the top, they found themselves in a small room with windows on every side, and the great lamp in the centre. The lantern is made of red-and-white glass, and turns around, so that first a red, and then a white, light may be seen far out at sea.
The keeper explained how, after lighting the lamp, he wound up the machinery which caused the lamp to revolve; and told them of the lonely hours he had spent in the little room below the lamp, while the waves dashed, and the storm beat outside.
[Illustration]
For many weeks in the winter he lives there all by himself, and sees no one; but, in the summer time, there is hardly a day when he does not have a boat full of visitors. He always gives them a hearty welcome, and makes himself very agreeable. I suppose he feels as though he must make the most of society while he can get it.
The children listened to his talk with great interest. With many thanks for his kind attentions, they bade him "Good-by," and, intent on collecting shells on another island