only one she had which her mamma thought was suitable for her to wear to the party.  “I am afraid you cannot go to the party, my dear, for now you have nothing fit to wear,” said Mrs. Dean to Elsie.  The little girl’s eyes filled with tears, and her Grandmamma seemed to feel almost as bad about it as Elsie.  But she did not wish to make the little girl feel any worse over her disappointment, so she made light of it and told her that there would probably be another birthday party soon, and by that time she would surely have a suitable dress to wear.  Elsie was finally comforted, and went to bed in good spirits after kissing mamma and grandmamma good night.

What was Elsie’s surprise next morning, to find that her picnic dress had been mended “good as new.”  She did not need to ask who did it, for she felt certain that it was grandmamma’s work, and so it proved.  Grandmamma remembered that she herself was a little girl once, and that blessed memory brought her into close sympathy with the grief and joy of her little granddaughter.  And so Elsie, thanks to her grandmamma’s tact and tenderness, went to Dolly Blossom’s birthday party.

[Illustration:  Grandmamma Wonders if she can’t Mend it.]

GOING TO BED.

        The evening is coming,
          The Sun sinks to rest;
        The rooks are all flying
          Straight home to their nest. 
    “Caw!” says the rook, as he flies overhead: 
    It’s time little people were going to bed!

        The flowers are closing,
          The daisy’s asleep;
        The primrose is buried
          In slumber so deep. 
    Shut up for the night is the pimpernel red: 
    It’s time little people were going to bed!

        The butterfly, drowsy,
          Has folded its wing;
        The bees are returning,
          No more the birds sing. 
    Their labor is over, their nestlings are fed: 
    It’s time little people were going to bed!

        Here comes the pony,
          His work is all done;
        Down through the meadow
          He takes a good run;
    Up goes his heels, and down goes his head: 
    It’s time little people were going to bed!

        Good-night, little people,
          Good-night and good-night;
        Sweet dreams to your eyelids,
          Till dawning of light;
    The evening has come, there’s no more to be said: 
    It’s time little people were going to bed!

T. Hood.

[Illustration:  Going to bed.]

THE CAT AND THE PARROT.