NEVER GIVE UP.

flowers with faces"NANNIE FOUND THEM," SHE EXPLAINED.

"NANNIE FOUND THEM," SHE EXPLAINED.

"Oh, I know they are to eat," Nettie said, smiling in answer to his laughter, "and I know how to make nice crust for pot pie; but for all that, I cannot help feeling sort of sorry for the pretty fluffy chickens. Are you going to fat them all, to eat; or raise some of them to lay eggs?"

"I don't know whatweare going to do, yet," Jerry said with pointed emphasis on the we. "You see, we have not had time to consult; this is a company concern, I told you. What do you think about it?"

Nettie's cheeks began to grow a deep pink; she looked down at the hurrying chickens with a grave face for a moment, then said gently: "You know, Jerry, I haven't any money to help buy the chickens, and I cannot help own what I do not help buy; they are your chickens, but I shall like to watch them and help you plan about them."

Jerry sat down on an old nail keg, crossed one foot over the other, and clasped his hands over his knees, as Job Smith was fond of doing, and prepared for argument:

"Now, see here, Nettie Decker, let us understand each other once for all; I thought we had gone into partnership in this whole business; that we were to fight that old fiend Rum, in every possible way we could; and were to help each other plan, and work all the time, and in all ways we possibly could. Now if you are tired of me and want to work alone, why, I mustn't force myself upon you."

"O, Jerry!" came in a reproachful murmur from Nettie, whose cheeks were now flaming.

"Well, what is a fellow to do? You see you hurt my feelings worse than old Mother Topknot did this morning when she pecked me; I want to belong, and I mean to; but all that kind of talk about helping to buy these half-dozen little puff-balls is all nonsense, and a girl of your sense ought to be ashamed of it."

Said Nettie, "O, Jerry, I smell the potatoes; they are scorching!" and she ran away. Jerry looked after her a moment, as though astonished at the sudden change of subject, then laughed, and rising slowly from the nail-keg addressed himself to the hen.

"Now, Mother Topknot, I want you to understand that you belong to the firm; that little woman who was just here is your mistress, and if you peck her and scratch her as you did me, this morning, it will be the worse for you. You are just like some people I have seen; haven't sense enough to know who is your best friend; why, there is no end to the nice little bits she will contrive for you and your children, if you behave yourself; for that matter, I suspect she would do it whether you behaved yourself or not; but that part it is quite as well you should not understand. I want you to bring these children up to take care of themselves, just as soon as you can; and then you are to give your attention to laying a nice fresh egg every morning; and the sooner you begin, the better we shall like it." Then he went in to breakfast.

There was no need to say anything more about the partnership. Nettie seemed to come to the conclusion that she must be ashamed of herself or her pride in the matter; and after a very short time grew accustomed to hearing Jerry talk about "Our chicks," and dropped into the fashion of caring for and planning about them. None the less was she resolved to find some way of earning a little money for her share of the stock company. Curiously enough it was Susie and little Sate who helped again. They came in one morning, with their hands full of the lovely field daisies. The moment Nettie looked at the two little faces, she knew that a dispute of some sort was in progress. Susie's lips were curved with that air of superior wisdom, not to say scorn, which she knew how to assume; and little Sate's eyes were full of the half-grieved but wholly positive look which they could wear on occasion.

woman looking out windowSARAH ANN.

SARAH ANN.

"What is it?" Nettie asked, stopping on her way to the cellar with a nice little pat of butter which she was saving for her father's supper. Butter was a luxury which she had decided the children at least, herself included, must not expect every day.

"Why," said Susie, her eyes flashing her contempt of the whole thing, "she says these are folks; old women with caps, and eyes, and noses, and everything; she says they look at her, and some of them are pleasant, and some are cross. She is too silly for anything. They don't look the least bit in the world like old women. I told her so, fifty-eleven times, and she keeps saying it!"

Nettie held out her hand for the bunch of daisies and looked at them carefully, and laughed.

"Can't you see them?" was little Sate's eager question. "They are just as plain! Don't you see them a little bit of a speck, Nannie?"

"Of course she doesn't!" said scornful Susie. "Nobody but a silly baby like you would think of such a thing."

"I don't know," said Nettie, still smiling, "I don't think I see them as plain as Sate does, but maybe we can, after awhile; wait till I get my butter put away, and I'll put on my spectacles and see what I can find."

So the two waited, Susie incredulous and disgusted, Sate with a hopeful light in her eyes, which made Nettie very anxious to find the old ladies. On her way up stairs she felt in her pocket for the pencil Jerry had sharpened with such care the evening before; yes, it was there, and the point was safe. Jerry had made a neat little tube of soft wood for it to slip into, and so protect itself.

"Now, let us look for the old lady," she said, taking a daisy in hand and retiring to the closet window for inspection; it was the work of a moment for her fingers which often ached for such work, to fashion a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth; and then to turn down the white petals for a cap border, leaving two under the chin for strings!

"Does your old lady look anything like that?" she questioned, as she came out from her hiding place. Little Sate looked, and clasped her hands in an ecstacy of delight: "Look, Susie, look, quick! there she is, just as plain! O Nannie! I'msoglad you found her."

"Humph!" said Susie, "she made her with a pencil; she wasn't there at all; and there couldn't nobody have found her. So!"

And to this day, I suppose it would not be possible to make Susie Decker believe that the spirits of beautiful old ladies hid in the daisies! Some people cannot see things, you know, show them as much as you may.

But Nettie was charmed with the little old woman. She left the potatoes waiting to be washed, and sat down on the steps with eager little Sate, and made old lady after old lady. Some with spectacles, and some without. Some with smooth hair drawn quietly back from quiet foreheads, some with the old-fashioned puffs and curls which she had seen in old, old pictures of "truly" grandmothers. What fun they had! The potatoes came near being forgotten entirely. It was the faithful old clock in Mrs. Smith's kitchen which finally clanged out the hour and made Nettie rise in haste, scattering old ladies right and left. But little Sate gathered them, every one, holding them with as careful hand as though she feared a rough touch would really hurt their feelings, and went out to hunt Susie and soothe her ruffled dignity. She did not find Susie; that young woman was helping Jerry nail laths on the chicken coop; but she found her sweet-faced Sabbath-school teacher, who was sure to stop and kiss the child, whenever she passed. To her, Sate at once showed the sweet old women. "Nannie found them," she explained; "Susie could not see them at all, and she kept saying they were not there; but Nannie said she would make them look plainer so Susie could see, and now Susie thinks she made them out of a pencil; but they were there, before, I saw them."

"Oh, you quaint little darling!" said Miss Sherrill, kissing her again. "And so your sister Nettie made them plainer for you. I must say she has done it with a skilful hand. Sate dear, would you give one little old woman to me? Just one; this dear old face with puffs, I want her very much."

So Sate gazed at her with wistful, tender eyes, kissed her tenderly, and let Miss Sherrill carry her away.

She carried her straight to the minister's study, and laid her on the open page of a great black commentary which he was studying. "Did you ever see anything so cunning? That little darling of a Sate says Nannie 'found' her; she doesn't seem to think it was made, but simply developed, you know, so that commoner eyes than hers could see it; that child was born for a poet, or an artist, I don't know which. Tremayne, I'm going to take this down to the flower committee, and get them to invite Nettie to make some bouquets of dear old grandmothers, and let little Sate come to the flower party and sell them. Won't that be lovely? Every gentleman there will want a bouquet of the nice old ladies in caps, and spectacles; we will make it the fashion; then they will sell beautifully, and the little merchant shall go shares on the proceeds, for the sake of her artist sister."

"It is a good idea," said the minister. "I infer from what that handsome boy Jerry has told me, that they have some scheme on hand which requires money. I am very much interested in those young people, my dear. I wish you would keep a watch on them, and lend a helping hand when you can."

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WILLIAM J. was the son of a very poor man. He was born near sawmills and shipyards. His home was humble, but piety and industry were seen there. William made up his mind that he would have an education. His motto was, "No such word as fail." He did not have the chances that you have in these good days. No, indeed, to get an education meant to him hard work,hard work! When working in the shipyard he often had a book open before him, and thus every golden moment was improved. What do you think he used at night, in the winter, for his lamp? Can you guess? Apine knot! And in summer his lamp was the light of the moon. Once he rode thirty miles to attend a spelling match.

When sixteen he opened a little school, and the next thing was to study Latin and Greek. The boy had set his heart on college, and it almost looks as though a boy can accomplish anything with such a motto as poor William's. He borrowed some Latin and Greek books, and set hard to work. Soon his dear parents died, and so the care of a brother and sister fell upon him. On entering college he found that he had worked too hard—for his eyes so failed that he had to leave off study and wear a green shade, but still he would not give up. He got his room-mate toread to him. He not only pushed through college himself, but helped his brother through also. Amid all these difficulties he graduated with high honors, became a professor in the same college, and was ever found in the path of duty and rectitude. Remember William, my little ones, and resolve on some plan of life, and pursue it with all your heart and soul.

Ringwood.

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THE NEW YEAR.

IT tolls from the tower, a midnight strain,Tolls the bell, telling us wellThat "Eighty-five" has gone away;That he ended his life this very day.That he could with us no longer stay.Ah, solemnly sounds the sad refrain,As the tolling bell doth the sad news tell.It tolls from the tower, and wakens the night;Tolls the bell, telling us wellThat "Eighty-five" we'll see no more;The year which has yielded such precious store,Brought us bounties unknown before.Ah! never again shall we see its light;With the toll of the bell, we must say farewell.Itringsfrom the tower, a midnight peal!Rings the bell, telling us wellThat Eighty-six is born to-night.Eighty-six! so young and bright;A brand-new year all plumed for flight.Ah! precious year, may it bring us weal;And its moments tell that we spent them well.Rev. G. R. Alden.

two kids feeding birdsA NEW YEAR'S BREAKFAST.

A NEW YEAR'S BREAKFAST.

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Volume 13, Number 11.Copyright, 1886, byD. Lothrop& Co.Jan. 16, 1886.

THE PANSY.

boy looking at baby in basinet wearing a paper hatHAPPY NEW YEAR!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

MR. ESSEX and his son Arthur had spent an hour riding through the park. For a change, they entered the museum to see the curiosities there. Arthur preferred the great hall where the animals were confined in their iron cages. He never tired of gazing at the glaring eyes of the tiger, and watching his tread round and round his prison, as if to find some way out. Now and then he would utter a terrible growl that would make Arthur tremble. Near by lay asleep "the king of the forest," as the lion is called. And a little farther yet was the monkey department.

donkey's headTHE STUFFED DONKEY.

THE STUFFED DONKEY.

Once there, laughing at their funny pranks, Arthur cared not to go a step further or see anything else. Suddenly looking around he exclaimed, "Father, do see that queer chap up there, making faces and shaking his head at some of us. I wonder what he would do if he could get at us."

"Scratch your eyes out, maybe," said a strange voice.

Arthur started at the unaccustomed tones and searched anxiously the many faces for his father's, but it was not among them. Where was he? Was Arthur alone? Had his father left him in such a place?

He pressed his way out of the throng, hurried this way and that, wondering what he should do, when to his great joy there sat his father looking up at a donkey that stood in a high place calmly contemplating the people below.

"Why, father," broke out Arthur, "I feared I or you was lost. But what are you doing in this spot, looking at that stupid beast? Did you never see a donkey before?"

"Not such a donkey," was the answer.

"Umph! what's a donkey pray, but—a donkey? Stubborn, ugly thing. Come and see the monkeys and enjoy yourself. All the people are there. They are cutting up enough to make you laugh yourself to pieces."

"And yet, my boy, there is more in that dead, stuffed donkey to interest your father than all the rest of this museum and every monkey in Africa to boot. You see the donkey has not a very beautiful face, neither is his motion the most rapid or graceful, and sometimes he is a bit stubborn, though that is because he is cruelly treated, yet the world of business could get on quite well without tigers and monkeys; not so well without donkeys. They are not for show, but for work, like some plain folks whose hands are rough doing other people good."

"But what about this donkey? I never saw one in a museum before."

"And you may never again. This one wrote his own history, and he did it in five minutes, and with his heels!"

"How in the world was that?" asked Arthur.

"That donkey, I am told, was at work in the park. A lion broke from his cage. He was hungry. He saw the donkey as he went leaping through the grounds and sprang upon him. A terrible fight followed. The donkey had neither teeth nor claws like the lion to defend himself. He could not get away. But God had given him great strength—so, with a mighty effort, he shook off his enemy and quickly turning, dealt him rapid and strong kicks, planting his blows between the eyes of the lion and tumbling him into an abyss, where the stunned beast died from his wounds. The brave donkey, however, was so dreadfully cut here and there by the lion's teeth that he soon bled to death.

"The battle was witnessed by many amid great excitement. Their sympathy was all with the donkey who was only doing what every one should do when attacked by a bloodthirsty foe—defend themselves.

"Such was the admiration for this beast which you call ugly and stubborn, that as soon as he died, a taxidermist who makes it his business to preserve the skins of animals and give them a life-like look, took this donkey in charge and there you see him.

"Here I've been sitting for one long hour looking at this stuffed beast. And I've been wondering how many of all that crowd over there by the monkeys would do and die if necessary for some noble cause. Would you, my boy?" said Mr. Essex, giving Arthur a searching look.

"God helping me," he answered, "I'll try to be right and true everywhere and every time. I should be ashamed to be outdone by a donkey."

C. M. L.

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PROBABLY there is no article of table or of other household use in the production of which so little of machine working is employed. Almost all the work on solid silver spoons is hand work; the exceptions are the rolling of the ingot into plates, and the production of spoons with ornamentation in relief, which is produced by recessed patterns on the rolls.

The material for spoons is coin silver obtained from the Government mints in ingots, or from trade for old silver, or from the use of current coin. This is melted over a charcoal fire in plumbago crucibles to a certain heat, known to the adept by the appearance of the surface of the molten metal; it is poured into castiron moulds, forming bars of about seventy ounces each.

These bars are heated over a forge fire of charcoal and worked on the anvil by hammer and sledge, precisely as iron or steel is worked, or are rolled into plates or ribbons. Occasional annealings are necessary to prevent cracking.

The ribbon for the ordinary teaspoon is four and a half inches long by three eighths of an inch wide. When rolled, a blank of two and a quarter inches is lengthened to four and a half inches, to thin it down to spoon thickness. Before rolling or hammering, silver is very nearly as soft as lead; but with these mechanical processes it can be made hard and rigid. Good springs can be made of silver hammered or rolled.

To form the bowl of the teaspoon, the bar, of three eighths of an inch wide and less than three thirty-seconds of an inch thick, is hammered flat on an anvil with a crowning face until the workman has spread it into an oval, which is much thinner in the middle than at the edges, as the edges are to receive the bulk of the wear. The handles are formed also by the hammer.

The curvature of the bowl is produced by repeated "coaxing" blows by a steel punch and a die of cast composition of lead and tin. No file dressing is employed on the faces of the spoon; only the edges are file-dressed to form. From the anvil and the die the spoons come to hand-smoothing with Scotch gray stones and polishing by stiff brushes, generally revolving brushes charged with "grits" and oil. Burnishing is the finish of spoons as of all bright silver goods.

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HOW many bones in the human face?Fourteen, when they're all in place.How many bones in the human head?Eight, my child, as I've often said.How many bones in the human ear?Four in each, and they help to hear.How many bones in the human spine?Twenty-four, like a climbing vine.How many bones in the human chest?Twenty-four ribs, and two of the rest.How many bones the shoulders bind?Two in each—one before, one behind.How many bones in the human arm?In each arm one; two in each forearm.How many bones in the human wrist?Eight in each, if none are missed.How many bones in the palm of the hand?Five in each, with many a band.How many bones in the fingers ten?Twenty-eight, and by joints they bend.How many bones in the human hip?One in each; like a dish they dip.How many bones in the human thigh?One in each, and deep they lie.How many bones in the human knees?One in each, the kneepan, please.How many bones in the leg from the knee?Two in each, we can plainly see.How many bones in the ankle strong?Seven in each, but none are long.How many bones in the ball of the foot?Five in each, as the palms are put.How many bones in the toes, half a score?Twenty-eight, and there are no more.And now altogether these many bones wait,And they count, in a body, two hundred and eight.And then we have in the human mouth,Of upper and under, thirty-two teeth.And now and then have a bone, I should think,That forms on a joint or to fill up a chink—A Sesamoid bone or a Wormian, we call.And now we may rest, for we've told them all.—Christian at Work.

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Lincoln and his son looking at a bookMR. LINCOLN AND TAD.

MR. LINCOLN AND TAD.

OF course; who should it be if not our Lincoln? The name is a household word in all our homes, and I doubt if I can tell you anything which you do not already know about this great man; the story of his life and his deeds are familiar to every schoolboy. His features are well known to you all, for there is scarcely a home that has not his portrait upon its walls.

In 1809 Abraham Lincoln was born in a lonely cabin on the banks of a small river or creek in Kentucky; born to poverty, hardship and obscurity, born to rise from obscurity, through poverty, hardship and toil to the highest point of an American boy's ambition. He early learned the meaning of privation and self-denial. The accounts of his early life are somewhat meagre, but he has told us himself that he had only about one year of school-life. Think of that, you boys who are going steadily forward year after year, from the primary school through all the intermediate grades up to the advanced, then to the academy, thence to college, and afterwards to law and divinity schools, think of Abraham Lincoln's school privileges and be thankful for your own. And more, show your appreciation by your improvement of your advantages.

Like many of our great men, Lincoln was what we style a self-made man, and yet it seems that he owed something of his making to his stepmother. His own mother died when he was a small boy, and the new mother who sometime after came into the family was very helpful to the boy, encouraging him in his love of books, and under her guidance he became a great reader, devouring every book he could lay his hands upon. Did it ever occur to you that it might be an advantage to some of us if we had fewer books? Driven back again and again to the few, we should read them more carefully and make the thoughts our own, and perhaps the stock of ideas gathered from books would evenexceed that which we gain from the multitude of books we have in these days of bookmaking. Whether you read much or little, few books or many, boys, read with careful thought. Take in and digest thoroughly the thoughts presented to you.

Well, this young man had but few books, but he seems to have laid by a number of ideas which should develop in time into acts which were to startle the world and overthrow existing institutions. He worked through his boyhood and early manhood with his hands, sometimes on a farm, sometimes as a clerk in a country store. Now as a boatman, now at clearing up and fencing a farm.

Log cabinLINCOLN'S EARLY HOME IN KENTUCKY.

LINCOLN'S EARLY HOME IN KENTUCKY.

It was while engaged in this last-mentioned employment that he earned the title afterwards given him in derision by his political opponents, "The rail splitter," but I suspect that he could have answered as did the boy who in the days of prosperity was taunted with having been a bootblack, "Didn't I do it well?"

Another log cabinLINCOLN'S FIRST HOUSE IN ILLINOIS.

LINCOLN'S FIRST HOUSE IN ILLINOIS.

At length the way opened—or, as I think, he by his exertions forced a way to study law, and he began his practice of the profession in Springfield, Ill.

I ought to have told you, however, that before his admission to the bar he served in the Black Hawk War as captain of a company of volunteers. He soon gained distinction as a lawyer, but presently became interested in politics.

And from that time his history is closely identified with that of his country. To tell you of the leading incidents even of his career would be to give you in a nutshell the history of the United States for that period. His noted contest with Stephen A. Douglas, his election to the presidency, his re-election, his celebrated Emancipation Proclamation, all these matters belong to the story of the stirring events of those years of our history. Then came the sad ending of this noble life; the cruel assassination of the beloved President, and the great man of the time.

Boys, you who have studied his character, will you tell me what made Abraham Lincoln great?

Faye Huntington.

boat on riverFLATBOAT.

FLATBOAT.

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Be good, dear child, and let who will be clever;Do noble things, not dream them all day long;And so make life, death, and that vast foreverOne grand, sweet song.

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BY Paranete.

I WAS born, as you might say," began the pin, "in two different places, which I suppose you must think is very queer, but I assure you it is true. You see I am composed of two different kinds of metal, and one kind came from the State of Minnesota, in this country, and the other from the country of Wales, in the British Isles. The first kind is copper, and the second is zinc. Also, if you ask your mother what I am made of, she will say brass. I will tell you about my early history. My first part was born deep down in the earth, in Minnesota. One day the stone I was in heard a great pounding, and soon it was brought to light. It was piled into a car, with many other stones of its kind, and was taken a long way off where the car dumped it into a hole; then great hammers came down and crushed it, with others, into little bits of pieces. Then it was taken out, burned, put in a lot of liquids about which I do not know, till it came out a beautiful shining sheet of copper; that's all I know of my first part.

"As for my second part, that came from way down in the earth too, in the form of a black stone. Then it was, like the copper ore, carried off and dumped, and great rollers came and crushed it as small as those nuts that you like so much—I don't know their name.

"From there, the little stones were all shoveled into big pots, and roasted for a very long while until they turned into liquid and dropped in little drops down into great pans. From there they were put into other pots, where they were again melted and stirred and skimmed, just as your mother treats her milk. Then the liquid was poured into great holes that cooled it off, and it came out one great beautiful cake of zinc. That is all that there is about my second part.

"The two large sheets were then both sent in a train to a large manufactory, and the zinc was put in a furnace, where it was entirely melted, and then the sheet of copper (twice as big as that of zinc) was broken up and mixed in, where it also melted. After this was roasted a good deal, it was poured into moulds which made it into good-sized plates, and it was called brass. So my first and second parts were united, and I was neither copper nor zinc, but brass.

"The sheet of brass out of which I came was packed with many others, and sent to another large building, where it was unpacked, and by means that I never understood, and never expect to, was drawn through enormous rollers, which cut it into long, square rods. I will only tell you of the one out of which I came.

"It was speedily made pointed, and a workman passed it through a small hole, where a pair of pincers took right hold and pulled it along; then it was put around a sort of wheel, which went round and round, drawing the rod through the hole, and making it smaller and smaller all the while, and winding it around itself. Then the point was put through a smaller hole, and drawn through again, until it went through actually twenty-five holes! I counted.

"Every little while the rod which had become wire then, was melted red-hot, and then doused in cold water. I do not know what this was for.

"Soon the wire was quite small, of a bright yellow color, and was coiled on wheels, and put in large dark boxes, to take a journey. The journey seemed long to me, though I do not suppose it was. When we reached our destination, several coils of wire were sent up in wagons, to a large building in the city, where we were unloaded, and carried in. My coil was taken off the wheel and wound round a little reel that stood at the end of a queer-looking machine.

"My part of the wire was at the very end, and I felt myself suddenly seized by a little steel thumb and finger, and drawn forward a little, where an immense pair of shears suddenly cut me off to about the length that you see me now. Going on a little further in my journey through the machine, I was suddenly between a pair of rollers that mashed me all down except where my head is, so that while I had had no head before, I was possessed of one now. Going on still further, I confronted a sort of a grindstone, which rubbed my point down so speedily that while I was wondering what it was going to do, I found I had a point. Then my journey suddenly ended, and I dropped into a trough where there were many pins like myself; and now thatI may give you an idea of the amazing velocity with which I journeyed, I will tell you what cannot but be true, I was not longer than ten seconds in going from the coil of wire to the trough.

"You may think, my dear friend, that this must have been very uncomfortable, and have hurt me a great deal, but Providence is good, and has provided for me so greatly, that I, because I have to go through adventures that would cost you mortals so much sufferings, actually have no feelings at all! Therefore it was, that while it was disagreeable, this being pounded and jammed so much, I cannot truthfully say that it hurt me in the least. You must excuse that bit of moralizing.

"Well, from the trough we were carried off, and put in kettles of what they called nitric acid, with pieces of tin in it. Then we were boiled again over a hot fire, much to my dismay, for I thought that now I was a pin, I had got through being boiled and roasted. But there I was boiling again, and the tin melted and stuck to me all over, so that I looked like silver instead of the bright yellow that I had been before. When we had dried sufficiently we were all buried in a barrel of sawdust, and rolled and rolled. This, it seems, was to make us shine more, and when I came out, I shone like crystal.

"From this place we were all carried off in barrels again, and thrown ruthlessly down where there were some steel bars awaiting us, and we started to drop through them, but were caught by our heads, and the bars dropped down with us, and we again dropped—into the holes pricked in the green paper. All of my companions had not been caught by the steel bars, but had dropped below them, and I never saw them again.

"Now that I was a pin, all dressed up in my coat of tin, and having a couple of holes to stick through, I was perfectly happy, especially as I had so many pleasant companions.

"The paper that I had dropped in, had a row of black pins as well as silver-colored ones. These informed me that when they had been carried up to the pots to boil, Japan varnish—whatever that may be—had been used, instead of tin, making them black.

"Soon we were packed, with many others, in a large box, taken to the depot in a wagon, and sent off on the cars. It was very dark in the box; but there were so many of us we had rather lively times, after all. Still we by no means regretted it when at last the journey was ended and our box was opened."

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THE minister's pew was a large square one near the pulpit and exposed to a fire of eyes.

Mr. Tyler, the minister, owned a large dog named Watch, who was bent on going to church with Mrs. Tyler. She was opposed, fearing that he might excite the mirth of the children.

Every Sunday a series of manoelig;uvres took place between the two, in which Watch often proved himself the keenest. Sometimes he slipped away very early; and Mrs. Tyler, after having searched for him to shut him up, would go to church and find Watch seated in the family pew, looking very grave and decorous, but evidently aware that it was too late now to turn him out. Sometimes he would hide himself until the family had all started for church, and would then follow the footsteps of some tardy worshiper who tiptoed in during prayers with creaking boots; and then didn't Watch know that Mrs. Tyler would open the pew door in haste, to prevent his whining for admission?

When Mr. Tyler became in earnest in his appeals, he often repeated the same word with a ringing emphasis and a blow on the desk cushion that startled the sleepers in the pews.

One day he thus shouted out, quoting the well-known text, "Watch! watch! watch, I say!" when bounce, came the dog almost into his arms.

You may be sure that the boys all took occasion to relieve their pent-up restlessness by one uproarious laugh, before their astonished parents had time to frown them into silence.

Honest Watch had been sitting with his eye fixed, as usual, on the minister. At the first mention of his name, he went, his ears and his eyes kindled; at the second, he was still more deeply moved; at the third, he obeyed, and flew completely over the pew rail and pulpit door, with leaps that did equal honor to his muscular powers and his desire to obey. After such a strict interpretation of the letter rather than the spirit, Watch was effectually forbidden church-going.—Selected.

Girl with kitten on her shoulderMY LITTLE PLAYMATE.

MY LITTLE PLAYMATE.

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Volume 13, Number 12.Copyright, 1886, byD. Lothrop& Co.Jan. 23, 1886.

THE PANSY.

nativityTHE BABE IN THE MANGER.

THE BABE IN THE MANGER.

By Margaret Sidney.

IT was nothing," said George Edward carelessly, as the family assembled around him in excited gratitude, and with fulsome praise, drawn thither by queer little noises down stairs in the library, and rattlings of window, suggestive of burglars, "I only pulled her in. She was good, and helped. Do stop talking of it; let's have the stockings. It's most morning."

"You are a brave boy," cried Hortense's father, uncle Gerald.

"You've saved her life," exclaimed Hortense's mother.

Hortense disengaged herself from her parents, and ran up to her cousin, putting her arms around him.

"I wasn't good. I wouldn't go up stairs when he told me, and I climbed up on the window-sill to lean out and see Santa Claus coming, and I slipped, and the window came down on my fingers, and I rolled around on the shed and most pulled him off."

"And you needn't try to hide your hand," said uncle Thomas, where they were visiting, "because we all see that it is bleeding."

At that there was a second rush for the hero of the hour, and the excited relatives each had to examine for himself and herself George Edward's thumb torn by the catch of the blind as he pulled himself up.

To save him from further sympathy, his mother seconded his proposition to have the Christmas stockings then and there.

"I know it is only quarter-past two," she said laughingly, "but these young folks won't sleep a wink if we send them to bed, nor I fancy will we elders do much better. Let us all go up to our rooms, give ourselves just ten minutes to array ourselves in something more festive and befitting the occasion than"—

"These bath wrappers, mackintoshes, and gossamer waterproofs," finished somebody in the group for her.

"O, aunt Fannie, aunt Fannie, what a Christmas frolic," cried two of the other mammas, not waiting for her to finish.

"O, aunt Fannie, aunt Fannie, what fun!" cried the young people.

George Edward swelled with pride at his mother's popularity. "Come on," he cried, "see who gets down first."

At that there was a regular stampede, old as well as young taking part, uncle Thomas only remaining to light the Christmas candles on the mantel and in the tall candlesticks on the piano underneath the holly and pine branches.

When the company assembled again in the library it was hard to believe that it was the same one so lately within those walls, and it was marvelous how much in the way of adornment could be accomplished in ten moments by one who gave "his whole mind to it." Some of the neckties however were tied on the way down stairs, and even boots buttoned in the same convenient resting-place, but these were only trifling matters when the general dress-parade was so fine, and nobody noticed any little discrepancy of attire in another.

The children planted themselves before the row of stockings hanging in the candlelight, and before the fire on the hearth, now poked up to its duty, and crackling away in all the proper Christmas jollity. They pretended not to be excited, but it was pretty hard work.

At last Bamford said, "Hortense is in a dreadful hurry. It's too bad to keep her waiting. Let's begin."

"So she should," said uncle Thomas, with a twinkle in his eye, "have hers at once. Hurry up, Hortie, and pull it off the nail. Bamford is so big I suppose he's going to wait till the last."

Bamford glared at him, and burst out: "Indeed I'm not. We are all children tonight."

"That's right, my boy," said uncle Thomas approvingly, "only say what you mean at first, and not get things over other people's shoulders. Now, one, two, three, see who gets his Christmas stocking first."

It carried the older part of the company back to their young days to see the scramble that followed, and they laughed until the tears came, to witness the gale the children were in. It was a Christmas frolic pure and simple, and pretty soon every soul in the room was engaged in it; the endwas a shower of comfits and bonbons scattered in approved style after the stockings were declared really empty, yielding nothing more from vigorous shakings.

"I never was so rich in my life," cried George Edward in a burst of gratitude, patting his pile of presents. "It was just the jolliest stocking my Santa Claus ever brought," and he marched up to put his arm around his mother's neck.

"I don't think I got as much as I did last year when I staid at home," remarked Fisher slowly and examining once more his pile. It was an awful speech to make, and it showed the soul of the boy. But it was forgiven as a slip of the tongue due to Christmas hilarity.

What a gala day! Nobody thought of being tired till well on into the night again, and then games and Christmas songs around aunt Ruth's cottage piano, being over, they one and all began to think of bed, and to speak even lovingly of the old routine to-morrow.

"I shall help you shovel the snow off, uncle Thomas, in front of the house," declared Bamford.

"So will I," cried George Edward, coming out of a yawn; "oh dear, I feel full of candy to my ears. I'd like a good pinch of salt."

"I'm almostsick of caramels," acknowledged Effie, daintily laying one by one in her bon-bon box to pick out a plain lemon drop. "Wouldn't it be dreadful to have to eat them always?"

George Edward made a wry face. Then he twisted his mouth up into a funny little pucker. "Let's make a candy bag and drop it at Tim Ryan's door to-morrow," he cried.

Tim Ryan was the man who took care of uncle Thomas' furnace, and swept out his store. He lived two blocks off in a dingy tenement house.

Effie closed her fingers involuntarily on her caramel with old-time fondness.

"Candy isn't good for poor folks," said Bamford sententiously, and cramming his mouth full of taffy.

"They get so little, it surprises their digestive apparatus," said uncle Thomas dryly. "I don't believe our contributions however in that line will harm them."

Hortense turned a stiff little back upon her precious candy pile, most of it saved with provident forethought to eat in the following days when amusements would run low. Could she?

She swallowed very hard an obstacle in her throat, saidnoin big letters to her own small mind, then ran over to George Edward, both hands full of sweets, and said in an odd little way all her own: "There, that's to make the poor people sick." A shout greeted her; but her mother kissed her, and Hortense was satisfied.

The baby of the group must not shame them all. So it was quite a respectable pile that at last lay in a good-sized paper bag tied with a flaming red ribbon, all ready for the expedition to Tim Ryan's after breakfast the next morning.

The candy did not injure the Ryans big and little, we will only say, but they came out of the feast with blooming sticky faces, and hearts full of gratitude toward the "Allen childer."

And then in two days they were all, that merry company, back once more in their homes, happy in the memory of the good time they had had, and full of pluck and enthusiasm for school and home life.

It was about this time that Jared Lewis, a rather dull boy in No. 9, the room that held George Edward in school-hours, broke out one day in the reading class with a new idea before them all. Jared was of a somewhat dull turn of mind, I have said. Certainly not a brilliant boy. But he held to a thought with wonderful pertinacity that once got into his mind; nothing could shake it.

They happened in the reading upon an abridged version of the Eastern legend of St. George and the Dragon, woven into a touching little English tale. We all know the stirring legend of the patron saint of England, Germany, and Venice, and of all chivalrous soldiers in the army battling against cruelty and injustice. It makes the blood leap in one's veins to read or to tell it, and one longs to grasp the good sword and go out to fight in the great world with the noble army of martyrs who enroll themselves on the side of the weak and suffering. There was many a sober little face, and one or two who pretended the light was bad for their eyes when Jared had stumbled through his rendition of the closing part. But he was so full of his new idea that his countenance was radiant and he cried in a loud assured tone, "Why, he goes to our school—he's here to-day."

"Who?" cried the teacher, and the children thrilled too suddenly, began to titter nervously.

"George Edward Allen," said Jared confidently. "He's Saint George, and he's always fighting a Dragon. He knocked a boy down yesterday for yanking a cat's tail."

The children stopped laughing, and, sharing his enthusiasm, nodded "yes, yes," to Jared. George Edward on the back seat studying his geography raised his head at the commotion. His face turned as red as fire and he made as though he would shoot his book through the air at the speaker's head. Jared went on in admiration more forcible than elegant: "He's always for the littlest dog in the fight, against the big fellows. I'd like to know if that isn't St. George."

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