Genre Fairy Tale. Page - 4

's head from its hard pillow of rock.With swift nervous motions she unfastened his coat and bent her ear to his breast. "'Tis only a faint, maybe shock. In all the world was only Margot, and Margot was lost. Ugh! the hail. See, it is still here--look! water, and--yes, the tea! It was for you---- Ah!" Her words ended with a sigh of satisfaction as a slight motion stirred the features into which she peered so earnestly, and she raised her master's head a bit higher. Then his eyes slowly

ture excited more than half my admiration, and all my love.Walpurgis on the ceiling, gray coming on in the embers, symptoms of death in the candle, a blotch of tallow on the Shakespeare, and the coat not half done. It must have been about then, I think, that the thin-edged sweetness of the Singing Mouse's voice pierced keenly through the air. I was right glad when the little creature came and sat on my knee, and in its affectionate way began to nibble at my finger-tips. It sat erect, its thin

of the recent laughter of his companions at his eagerness."Well, that's hard to say," replied his elder relative. "I'd like to start to-morrow morning. It all depends on the stage of the water. If a flood came down the Athabasca to-morrow you'd see pretty much every breed in that saloon over there stop drinking and hurry to the scows." "What's that got to do with it?" asked John. "Well, when the river goes up the scows can run the Grand Rapids, down below

st tone I sing to them; yet they are never quite satisfied with me, but beat their wings, and stretch out their heads, and cannot be happy until they hear their father."The squirrel, who lives in the hole where the two great branches part, hears what I say, and curls up his tail, while he turns his bright eyes towards the swinging nest which he can never reach." The fanning wind wafts across the road the voice of the old horse- chestnut, who also has a word to say about the

ocean. However, some footsteps were heard, and Abbe Rose, againmistrustful, saw a man go by, a tall and sturdy man, who wore clogs andwas bareheaded, showing his thick and closely-cut white hair. "Is notthat your brother?" asked the old priest.Pierre had not stirred. "Yes, it is my brother Guillaume," he quietlyresponded. "I have found him again since I have been coming occasionallyto the Sacred Heart. He owns a house close by, where he has been livingfor more than

out of their folded sweaters. Soon they were helping Moise with his cooking at the fire and enjoying as usual their evening conversation with that cheerful friend.It did not take Moise, old-timer as he was, very long to get his bannocks and tea ready, and to fry the whitefish and grouse which the boys now brought to him. Uncle Dick looked at his watch after a time. "Forty minutes," said he. "For what?" demanded Jesse. "Well, it took us forty minutes to get off the packs

hould so much like to put Chirp into Dicky's cage.""I have been thinking of the very same thing," said Charles. "Let us run and ask mamma if we may do it." Away they ran and asked. "Why," said their mamma, "it certainly will have rather a strange appearance. The two birds do not seem suitable companions. It is an odd fancy, children; but you may do it if you like." No sooner said than done. Off ran Fanny and Charles--took the little Foundling out of

hey will learn very fast.Soon we shall see how well they can read. This doll is not so good as the others. She does not like to go to school very well. She must sit by me and look at her book. As soon as she can read well, she may go home and play. She goes to school day after day, but she does not learn. She can not write at all. She can not tell her name. --- WRITING LESSON. This is my little doll. Her name is Lucy. Do you thik she is pretty? s as dolls does goes is --- tall Henry am table

Sir Alexander's record, you know--he made it from here in six days!""I don't remember that book very well," said Jesse; "I'll read it again some time." "We'll all read it each day as we go on, and in that way understand it better when we get through," ventured John. "But listen; I thought I heard them in the bush." It was as he had said. The swish of bushes parting and the occasional sound of a stumbling footfall on the trail now became plainer. They

ou know. The man had a kind face and he handled Pine Tree very carefully. He sawed and smoothed Pine Tree many days, and as he worked he whistled and sang, for he was happy. Sometimes he would whistle some of the songs that Pine Tree had heard when he lived in the forest, and then sometimes those he had heard on the ocean, and again he would whistle the songs that Pine Tree had heard in the home of the children.At last the man's work was finished. Pine Tree had been made into a wonderful