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Betty Holt's Story.

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Betty Holt was my mother's old nurse. She was a very old woman when I was a child. She had been nurse to my mother, and to all my uncles and aunts, and was very good and kind to all little children. She was grand at telling stories and singing old ballads, chanting rhymes and teaching wise proverbs which she had listened to when she was a child. There are not many old women like Betty Holt in these days.

Betty was not dressed as women folks dress now-a-days. She wore a great high-crowned cap, with a very narrow border which met under her chin. Round the front of the cap she had a broad black ribbon with a bow tied just over the right ear. Her large flowered chintz gown was open at the waist to show a spotless white kerchief: below the skirt you could see a broad striped blue or green stuff petticoat, and above it an apron of white linen with a finely plaited border. Her shoes were of black velvet, pointed at the toes with bright steel buckles, and had high red heels. These were her best shoes, but in the nursery she wore grey list slippers. The sleeves of her gown were short, only just meeting the top of her long, grey mittens—not gloves, as she had no fingers to them, for she used to say, "My dears, muffled cats catch no mice."

Betty was not a pretty woman, but she was always orderly and neat as a new pin. She never had a husband, yet was very fond of children, and having lived so many, many years in our grandmother's family, she loved us all as much as if we had been her own children—and we were all very fond of old Betty.

We had heard all her stories over and over again, but would stop crying or quarrelling to listen to them again. She used to sing us long ballads, such as "Lord Thomas and Fair Ellen," or the sad story of "The Babes in the Wood," or "Chevy Chase," or the doleful story of "Death and the Lady," or "Barbara Allen." But we loved best to listen to and learn hymns about God, and hear the old, old story of the Lord Jesus when He came to die for us. Watts' beautiful "Cradle Hymn" was a great favourite, and we dearly loved to listen to it.

Betty made all her birds and beasts and insects, and even the flowers and trees, speak in the stories she told us: so they were more like fables than stories, but we children liked them none the less for that. Here is one of our old nurse's stories that she told to the two-and three-year-old little ones. It was called

"THE TWO WHITE PIGEONS AND THE BROWN COW."

"A long, long time ago it was, my dears, there were two pretty white pigeons that lived in a meadow by the side of a river. It was a fine place. The grass grew fresh and green, and the white daisies looked like stars holding up their little heads to the sunshine, and the cowslips smelled so sweet, and the violets sweeter still, though they hid their faces under the green leaves. They were modest and not so bold as the buttercups, who held up their yellow heads and seemed to say, 'Look at us and our gold cups, are we not fine fellows?' But everyone liked the violets and the 'meadow-sweet,' and the delicate 'meadow pinks' better than the buttercups.

"One bright May morning when the sun had warmed the water in the river, the great green dragon-flies came out and the little water-beetles danced their reels on the top of the water under the shade of the overhanging willow trees: the May-flies, too, came up from the bottom of the river—where they had lain in their little houses snug and safe all winter—and sported themselves on the broad leaves of the water plantains, and the little red spotted Lady-birds found nice resting-places on the docks and mallow leaves beside them.

"The gold-finches and thrushes and linnets sang in the hedges, and the nightingales poured out their songs all night long in the grove by the meadow. It was as if they were all singing songs of praise to the good God who had made them so happy and joyful.

"The pigeons, too, were very happy and gladsome as they flew to and fro or nestled among the long grass and flowers. They had their own way of singing and talking to each other. It was not like the song of the lark when he rises from the ground and sings so sweetly and clearly as he soars up, up, up, so high that he seems to be lost to earth and belong to the blue sky or the white clouds.

"The note of the pigeon is only just 'Coo-coo-coo', but it is soft and sounds nicely, just as if they were saying softly, 'I love you, I love you'—so it was a sort of love-song they sang to each other.

"Now, the little hen-pigeon saw that all the other birds were busy making nests or sitting on the eggs they had laid, and she thought she must not be idle. So she made a hollow place in the grass by way of a nest and laid a white egg in it. She was so pleased that she called her mate to see it, and he was as pleased and proud as she was. He admired the smooth round egg very much, and did nothing but coo and coo to show how happy he was.

"I am sorry to say that their happiness did not last very long, for a great brown cow came into the meadow, and as she went over to the river to drink she chanced to see the pretty white egg as it lay in the grass. She did not know what it was—perhaps she thought it was only a white stone—so she gave a stamp with her big heavy foot and smashed it to pieces.

"The little pigeons were so vexed when they saw the egg was broken that they cried out, 'Broon Coo! Broon Coo! why did you tread on our nest and break our pretty white egg? Coo-coo-coo!'

"But the hard-hearted brown cow did not care for the grief of the poor pigeons. She tossed up her horns and swished her long tail, and walked off munching the flowers as she went.

"The pigeons were very sorry, but as they could not put the broken egg together they did not fret long over it, and were soon happy again. The next day the little mother made another nest in the grass, and laid another egg and covered it up safely, but the spiteful brown cow when she came to the river to drink, looked about her till she spied the nest, and gave a stamp, and of course broke the newly laid egg.

"Then the pigeons flew about in great distress and said, 'Broon Coo! Broon Coo! why did you come again and break our nice white egg? Coo-coo-coo!'

"But the unkind cow only said, 'Moo-moo! who cares for you?' and tossed her head as she marched off.

"Now, there was a nice wise owl who had watched it all from the dead branch of a hollow tree, and she said, 'My dear friends, why do you make your nests on the ground day after day? The wild pigeons build in the trees, and their nests are safe from the feet of cows or men, or any creature that walks the earth. Why not try that plan?'

"Then the pigeons set to work and gathered sticks and straws and other things, and made a nest on the flat branch of a pine tree, and laid two eggs in it. When the brown cow came to look for their nest as she had before, to break their egg, they put their heads out of the nest and cried, 'Broon Coo! Broon Coo! you can't tread on our nest and break our pretty white eggs. Noo-noo-noo!'

"Ever since that time the pigeons have built their nests in the trees, where no ill-natured beasts can harm them."