M. D. SEARS
See Page 8
MISS PECK’S ADVENTURES.
MISS PECK’S ADVENTURES.
Any people who may happen to have readthe story of “Wilful, the Conceited Pig,”will recollect how he had called up his friend,Miss Peck, one night, from the henhouse,where there had been a great disagreementbetween her and Cock-a-doodle, and howthey had set off together to the Queen’shouse, to tell Her Majesty some very curiousnews; also how they had very soon partedcompany, not being able to agree as to whichwas the right road, and how Wilful’s journeyhad come to a very sad end, long before hewas anywhere near the palace of Her Majestythe Queen. Now they may also like toknow something of Miss Peck’s adventures;and I am therefore going to relate them,6thinking that, perhaps, we may find almostas much to take warning by, in her history,as in Wilful’s conceit, and the terrible punishmentit met with.
Miss Peck felt rather lonely at first, whenshe found herself out in the dusky lane alone,at that time of night; but still she could nothelp chuckling to think how Wilful had persistedin taking the wrong road, and wastravelling all for nothing, whilst she was sureto reach the Queen’s house in time, if herpoor legs would but carry her far enough.
“There is no need to go so fast, at anyrate,” she thought to herself. “If we gotto the palace so early in the morning verylikely Her Majesty the Queen would not beup, as I would have told Wilful, only henever will stop to listen to a word one has tosay. Why our old David at home nevergets up to give us our breakfast till Cock-a-doodlehas walked round the yard severaltimes, talked to all his family, told them hisdreams—which, I must, say, I am very tiredof hearing—and crowed over and over again.I am sure if it were not for the early walkinto the rick-pen, which I make a point oftaking every morning, and the little bit ofsupport that I get there, I should be dead withhunger long before breakfast time; but nobodyever seems to remember how delicate my7health is, and old David would not get up abit the sooner, I verily believe, if I were dying.However, it is better than if Betsy Chopperhad the feeding of us entirely, for I know thatthe smoke never begins to come out of the