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Mice fond

r. Woopworru,—While listen-
ing, last night, to several pages
of your “Stories about Ani-
mals,” which my nephew read

aloud with great apparent enjoyment,
I called to mind an individual, belonging,
it is true, to one of the most diminutive
families mentioned in your amusing and
instructive volume, but whose singular
history and tragic fate interested and
affected me exceedingly.

When about thirteen years old, I
made a visit of several weeks’ length to
a young lady who resided in the coun-
try. My friend was rather older than
I, and, being a farmer’s daughter, had,
of course, some household cares: she
one morning invited me to accompany
her to the dairy, promising to regale me
with “an exhibition such as money it-
self,” she said, “could not purchase a
sight of, in the city.” I complied, and
followed her.

When we were both in the room

THE YOUTH’S CABINET.

of Music.

where the milk was kept, she tied on
her large apron, bared her arms, and
commenced her customary morning’s
task of skimming milk and shaping rolls
of butter; singing, meanwhile, as coun-
try girls often do, a pretty, lively air, in
a voice so sweet and musical, that I am
almost certain any of your readers would
have been delighted to hear it. I soon
discovered that I was not the only lis-
tener to my friend’s sweet tones and
pretty song. A little mouse appeared
on one of the shelves, and, looking
around cautiously, at first, as if to assure
himself there were none but friends pre-
sent, moved softly along the smooth
board, until very near the spot in which
Annie stood at her work. Here he be-

gan turning round and round, throwing

himself backward and forward, frisking,
leaping, assuming a greater variety of
attitudes, and executing a more wonder-
ful and grotesque series of evolutions,
involutions and revolutions, (analyze