entirely than allow it to be hungry. He
spent his brief hours of respite from toil in
making various little fancy articles, which he
sold, in order to procure dainties which
Fine-Ear liked, —gingerbread and sugar, for
example. Often, during the period of toil, the
convict would smile with delight when his
little friend, creeping from its nestling place
would rub its soft fur against his cheek.
But when, on a fine sunshiny day, the rat
took up his position on the ground, smoothed
his coat, combed his long moustaches with his
sharp nails, and dressed his long ears with his
delicate paws, his master would testify the
utmost delight, and exchange tender glances with
the black, roguish eyes, of Master Fine-Ear.

The latter, confiding in his patron's care
and protection, went, came, sported or stood
still, certain that no one would injure him;
for to touch a hair of the rat's whisker would
be to incur a terrible penalty. One day, for
having thrown a pebble at him, a prisoner
was forced to spend a week in hospital, ere he
recovered the effects of a blow bestowed on
him by Fine-Ear's master.

The animal soon learned to know the sound
of the dinner-bell, and jumped with delight
on the convict when he heard the welcome
summons.

Four years passed on in this manner, when
one day poor Fine-Ear was attacked by a cat,
which had found her way into the workshop,
and received several deep wounds before his
master, flying to the rescue, seized the feline
foe, and actually tore her to pieces.

The recovery of the rat was tedious. During
the next month the convict was occupied in
dressing his wounds. It was strange the
interest which every one connected with the
prison took in Fine-Ear's misfortune. Not
only did the guards and turnkeys speak of it
as the topic of the day, but the hospital
nurses furnished plasters and bandages for
the wounds; and even the surgeon
condescended to prescribe for him.

At length the anmial recovered his strength
and gaiety, save that one of his hind paws
dragged a little, and the cicatrice still
disfigured his shin. He was more tame and
affectionate than ever, but the sight of a cat
was sufficient to throw his master into a
paroxysm of rage, and, running after the
unlucky puss, he would, if possible, catch and
destroy her.

A great pleasure was in store for the
convict. Thanks to his good conduct during the
past four years, his sentence of imprisonment
for life had been commuted into twenty years,
in which were to be included the fifteen
already spent in prison.

"Thank God! " he cried, " under His mercy
it is to Fine-Ear I owe this happiness! " and
he kissed the animal with transport. Five
years still remained to be passed in toilsome
imprisonment, but they were cut short in an
unlooked-for manner.

One day, a mutinous party of felons
succeeded in seizing a turnkey, and having shut
him up with themselves in one of the dormitories,
they threatened to put him to death if all
their demands were not instantly complied with,
and a full amnesty granted for this revolt.

Fine-Ear's master, who had taken no part
in the uproar, stood silently behind the
officials and the soldiers, who were ready to
fire on the insurgents. Just as the attack was
about to commence, he approached the chief
superintendent, and said a few words to him
in a low voice.

"I accept your offer," replied the governor:
"Remember, you risk your life; but if you
succeed, I pledge my word that you shall be
strongly recommended to the government for
unconditional pardon, this very night."

The convict drew forth Fine-Ear from his
bosom, kissed him several times, and then
placing him within the vest of a young fellow-
prisoner with whom the rat was already
familiar, he said in a broken voice:—

"If I do not return, be kind to him, and
love him as I have loved him."

Then, having armed himself with an
enormous bar of iron, he marched with a
determined step to the dormitory, without
regarding the missiles which the rebels hurled
at his head. With a few blows of his bar, he
made the door fly open, and darting into the
room, he overturned those who opposed his
entrance, threw down his weapon, and seizing
the turnkey, put him, or rather flung him. out
safe and sound into the passage.

While in the act of covering the man's
escape from the infuriated convicts, he
suddenly fell to the ground, bathed in blood. One
of the wretches had lifted the iron bar and
struck down with it his heroic comrade.

He was carried dying to the hospital, and,
ere he breathed his last, he uttered one word
—it was "Fine-Ear!"

Must I tell it? the rat appeared restless
and unhappy for a few days, but he soon
forgot his master, and began to testify the
same affection for his new owner that he had
formerly shown to him who was dead.

Fine-Ear still lives, fat, and sleek, and
strong; indeed, he no longer fears his feline
enemies, and has actually succeeded in killing
a full-grown cat and three kittens. But, he
no longer remembers the dead, nor regards
the sound of his master's number, which
formerly used to make him prick up his ears
and run from one end of the court to the
other.

Does it only prove that rats, as well as men,
may be ungrateful? Or is it a little illustration
of the wise and merciful arrangement,
that the world must go on, die who will?

Now ready (with a copious Index,) Price Three Shillings,
            THE FIRST VOLUME OF THE
            HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE OF
                CURRENT EVENTS.
Being a complete Record of the events of the year
     EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY.