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Entered according to Act of Congress, in June, 1868, by J. W. Burke & Cos., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the So. District of Georgia. VOL. 11. Written for Burke’s Weekly. THE FOUR LITTLE KITTENS. my Charley was a wee little boy, just old enough to ' understand what was read to him, his grandfather sent him the prettiest picture book, about “Three Little Kittens.” Did you ever see it? It begins: “ Three little kittens. They lost their mittens, And they began to cry Oh, mammy dear, We sadly fear Our mittens we have lost.” Then the old mother cat says: “ What! lost your mittens, You naughty kittens! Then you shall have no pie.” and the little kittens cried “ Miew! Miew! —Miew 1” But after a while the three little kit tens found their mittens, and then their mother gave them some pie, whereupon they said, “ Purr, purr, purr.” But what silly little creatures they must have been, for they put on their mittens to eat their pie, and the conse quence was that the mittens were sadly soiled, and they got another scolding from their mother. But “ The three little kittens They washed their mittens, And hung them up to dry: Oh. mammy dear, Look here ! look here! Our mittens we have washed.” There were the funniest pictures in this book, all beautifully colored. The old mother cat had on spectacles- and a cap, and the kittens were the most comical-looking little fellows you ever saw. One was white, another spotted, and the other black, and you can’t im agine how funny they looked with their mittens on. Well, Charley was never tired of hear ing this book read, and he soon knew it all “by heart.” One day I was sitting sewing, when in rushed Charley, his eyes Hashing with excitement, and said : “ Oh ! mother, there are four of the tiniest little kittens in the box in the MACON, GEORGIA, AUGUST i, 1868. garret Now, can’t I have some little kittens of my own, and let ’em wear mittens ?” “ But, my son,” I replied, “four kit tens are too many to have about the house at one time. You recollect there were only three in the book, and they gave their mother a good deal of trou ble. Besides, I don’t think you will be able to persuade your kittens to wear mittens. I have never known them to do so, except in story books.’’ “ But, mamma, maybe mine will be the same sort as the story books tell about; and I know four is gooder than three. So, please, mamma, let me bring them all down stairs.” Charley had so set his heart on it, that I was obliged to yield, and down stairs came the four little kittens, just as soon as their eyes were open. And then what a time there was with Char ley’s pets. The first thing in the mor ning, the kittens had to have their breakfast of milk, and to keep the old cat from eating it up from them they were mounted on an arm chair, where they leisurely took their meals from a tin plate. They are now about half grown, and are so well fed that their little bodies “ stand out with fatness,” but Charley still insists on feeding them in the arm chair, and they have become so used to it that they jump up into the chair of their own accord. I am glad to say. however, that Charley has given up all idea of providing mittens for his pets, as they have steadily and persistently resisted all his efforts to supply them with those necessary articles of wearing apparel. He is now thoroughly con vinced that the only kittens that ever wore mittens were those told about in the story book. Aunt Edith. ».•>•— ’Tis difficult to love those we don’t esteem ; but it is no less difficult to love those we esteem much more than ourselves. Written for Burke’s Weekly. MAROONER’S ISLAND; OR, Dr. Gordon in Search of his Children. BY REV. F. R. GOULDING, Author of the “ Young Marooners.'' CHAPTER XXXI. BEAUTIFUL DAWN —LAWYERS REMARK — HOW DO WE KNOW THERE IS A GOD ? SHE Sabbath dawned with rare beauty. First a grey belt of pure, soft light, following close upon the light of the departed moon, streaked the lower margin of the sky, extending rapidly north and south t and spreading higher, brighter, and more beautiful. Then followed a rosy tinge, contrasting sweetly with the pure grey, like the hue of health upon a fair young cheek. Finally came the rich, golden light that immediately precedes the full burst of dazzling, glorious day. “ Often as I have looked upon scenes like this,” said Mrs. Mclntosh to her sister, “I never can witness this sudden burst of light without feeling my pulse quicken, and my heart throb.” “And I never can witness this grad ual, yet rapid, growth of day from faint dawn to dazzling light, without thinking of that beautiful Bible image, ‘ The path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day.’” But the eye was not the only organ of sense regaled that morning. As the light thus rose, and spread, and bright ened, the woods became vocal with in numerable songsters. The brown-wing ed thrush, known generally as the thrasher, and by some as the French mocking bird,* leaped from the spray where it had spent the night, selected a spot better suited for song, and then gave utterance to that delicious liquid music by which it worships its Creator, * It imitates other birds very sweetly, and in some of its notes more so than the grey bird so generally admired. The first of these is known by ornithologists as turdus rvfus, the last as inimus polyglottus. NO. 5.