244

THE YOUTH’S CABINET.

nee neeene nnn

it so annoying, that I determined to put
on a curb, or, in other words, to watch
myself closely.

Oh! what an effort it was to subdue
an old and long-indulged habit. Many
a time have I wet my pillow at night
with tears of regret, for some trespass
of the day. Years wore on, and I be-
gan to think I was quite getting the
mastery, and forgot to watch myself.
«“ How easy it is to be mistaken.” I was
busily engaged one day before a large
looking-glass, arranging my hair and
thinking very complacently of some gray
hairs that mingled with the brown upon
my head, and wondering if gray hairs
were really a mark of wisdom, when pop
came the little curly head of my saucy,
blue-eyed John, right between me and
the image of myself in the glass. There
he was, sure enough, with his muddy
little boots, just from the street, on the
table, under the glass. Now he was
only three years old, and I suppose
wanted to see himself, as well as his
mother. I do not know that he had
ever been told not to do it; but I was
vexed at his daring, and instantly raised
my hand to box his ears.

He was gazing at himself, and of
course saw me or my shadow raise my
hand, and, to avoid the blow, threw his
head forward, and sprang. It went
right into my best mirror, shattering it
into a hundred pieces. More vexed than
ever, 1 was about to repeat the blow,
atcompanied by a harsh rebuke. Then
the little fellow turned up his eyes com-
ically at me, saying at the same time, in
a subdued and imploring tone, “ Mother,
it was you.”’

The rest of the children—for I have
‘eight of them, as merry and full of

 

sport as any of you—burst into a fit of
laughter. The curb was on my spirit
in @ moment.
buked by my children.
instead of striking Johnny, taken him
kindly down and told him better, I
should have been saved the mortification
and regret of having lost my temper as
well as the cost of a new looking-glass.

I was humbled and re.
Now had I,

A Kennel of Fox-Hounds.

x. Coimay, in one of his agree-
able Letters addressed to a
boy, thus describes a visit to
an English dog kennel :

“The day before yesterday I was
introduced to a kennel of fox-hounds,
eighty in number. The huntsman was
with me, or I should have been afraid
they would have mistaken me for a fox,
then woe be tome! It was their feed-
ing hour. Their provision is oat-meal
scalded, and soup made of horse-beef,
several quarters of which were hung up
in the larder. ‘They kill an old horse for
them about twice in a’ week. Professor
Buckland tasted the soup and the cooked
horse, for which, though invited, I had
no inclination. Much good may it do
him. ‘It was funny to see the dogs call-
ed out, every one by his own name, and
all of them knowing their places, and
afraid to come until they were called.
They have a bell hung over their bed ;
they all sleep together, so that if they
quarrel or have any angry discussions
after bed-time, the keeper rings the bell,
and they know the whip will follow the
bell immediately if they are not still.”