Year: 1877

bound toward her master and throw the
rings at his feet.


Among those who had found refuge
in the hamlet was o child OF five years
old called Marie, the daughter Of a peas
ant whose farm had been burned by the
invaders. She was an object of general
interest in the little colony on account OF
her gentle manners, and the sweet but
suffering expression Of her pale intan-
tine features. A year or two previously
she had been so severely bitten in the
arm by a vicious dog that the limb had
to be amputated, and her delicate con-
stitution had never recovered the shock.
Fanchette soon took greatfancy to the
little girl; and the doctor having ad-
vised her to be fed as much as possible
upon milk, MacHenry offered that Of
the GOAT. It was beautiful to see the
pleasure with which the atfectionate
creature took upon herself the office OF
nurse, and the avidity with which the
child sucked in the grateful nourishment
which was giving her new life. Fan
chette became every day more and more
attached to Marie. She rarely left her,
except when wanted by her master for
some new study; and when it was ended,
and MacHenry set her at liberty, say
inc, " Now be off to Marie, - with what
ioy the creature bounded away, and
how reioiced was the little one to have
again bv her side her darling Eanchette
Nesting her head under the child'S
hand, a world Of loving things were in
terchanged in their mute caresses.


1t once happened that a lady having
in her hand crown Of artificial ivy
which she had picked up somewhere,
probably the debris of a school fete dur
inc happier times, placed it on the head
of the little Marie. Fanchette, rising on
her hind legs, examined it with comlcal
curiosity; and, having made up her
mind on the subject, scampered off to
an old tree close by, around whose trunk
the real ivy twined its thick and glossy
wreaths. butted at it with her horns,
twisting it around them, and tearing off
long trailing garlands. She then ran
back in triumph to throw her treasures
at the child's feet, saying as clearly as
if she had the Gift of speech: Look.
This is better than the coarse imitation
they have decked you with this is the
real thing!"


Another day the child was looking at
herself in a mirror, and Fanchette i'm
mediateIy began to do the same. The
expression of sadness and wonder in
her eyes seemed to say so plainly:
"Why are Marie and I so different? If
| were like her l could speak to her, and
then we should love each other still bet
teri"


One evening, Marie, who was sitting
by her mothers side, began to tidget
and complain of an uneasy sensation in
her back. Her mother, busily engaged
with some work, and thinking the child
was only disposed to be troublesome,
examined it slightly, and told her to be
quiet; but the poor little thing cOntinu-
ed to complain, when the mother, get
ting out of temper, gave her a sharp
slap. Fahchette, who was present at
this scene, presented her horns in a
threatening attitude to the woman, and
gently strOked the shoulders of her little
friend with her foot. At the sight of the
dumb animals eloquent appeal, the
woman began to relent, and, calling the
child to her, examined more carefully
the state of things, when she found, to
her horror, one of those large and
poisonous caterpillars called in French
- procession djreS,n which had pain
fully irritated the delicate skin of the
child.


1t was about this time that MacHenry,
continuing his artistic labOrs in spite Of
all the difficulties of the situation, re-
solved on taking for the subject Of new
picture his goat Fanchette nursing the
little Marie. Fanchette lent herself with
her usual intelligence and docility to his
wishes; and Marie was represented ly-
ing among grass and flowers with her
four-footed friend bending over her.
/ his picture, which was afterward re-
garded as one of MacHenry's best works,
obtained the most signal success at the
Paris Exhibition Of Modern Art-the
ruUhfuIness of the design, the freshness
Of the coloring, and the grace Of the
composition being equally striking.


But these bright autumn days soon
passed away, and many may recollect
the bitter cold Of the sad Christmas of
that dismal winter. Poor little Marie
suffered so severely from it, that after a
vain attempt to recall some warmth by
lighting a fire of brushwoOd, the only
fuel that could be procured, her mother,
as a last resource, put her into her little
bed, in the hope that by heaping upon
her all the clothing she could procure,
the child might regain little heat; but
it was in vain; no heat came, and the
blood had almost ceased to circulate in
her frozen limbs. At this moment
Fanchette arrived, and without waiting
for an invitation, sprang upon the bed
1t was in vain they tried to drive hel