The pair of stalwart lads, with rifles on their shoulders, who had been walking all the forenoon beside the big covered wagon, thought it was, truly, a fine spot and began to make camp for dinner, unyoking the oxen and turning them out to graze, kindling a fire with dry twigs and moss and fetching water from the clear brook that rippled by.

Meanwhile, children of all ages began to climb down from the wagon.  There were ten of them, fine healthy children; the youngest, Martha, was a little yellow-haired girl of three, the pet and pride of them all.

The wagon, which had been their traveling house for a month was well fitted up for the comfort.  The seats were built along the sides and so contrived as to hook back at night; then the bedding, tightly rolled up by day, was spread out on the wagon bottom.  Under the wagon swung the large copper kettle, the most important of all things in the households of those early times.

After dinner the oxen were yoked up, and in great spirits the pioneers scrambled to their places in the wagon, and the oxen started on at a good pace, and they had gone a mile or two before the fearful discovery was made that little Martha was missing!

The patient oxen were turned about, and as fast as possible the distracted family traveled back to the dinner camp, Mr. Harris and the big brothers calling, as they went, the name of the child.

The camp was finally reached—­but little Martha was not there and no trace of her could be found.

The forest had seemed so peaceful an hour before, but now it was filled with terrors.  What wild animals might not lurk in the thickets!  The very brook seemed to murmur of dangers—­quicksands and treacherous water-holes.

“Baby!  Baby!” called Mr. Harris suddenly, breaking into a sharp cry; and this time, in the anxious waiting pause of silence, a shrill little voice from right under the wagon piped out, “Here I is!” and over the rim of the great copper kettle popped Martha’s golden head.  Scrambling out, “head-over-heels,” she rushed into her mother’s arms, as fresh and rosy from her after-dinner nap as though she had been rocked in the downiest cradle in the land.

AN APRIL DAY.

     Now bless me! where have my rubbers gone,
       And where my big umbrell’? 
     It’s pouring rain, and a minute ago
       It was just as clear as a bell!

     Oh, here are my rubbers, and here’s my umbrell’—­
       But, dear! dear me!  I say,
     The sun’s out bright and the rain all gone—­
       Did you ever see such a day!

—­Selected.

AN ODD EARTHQUAKE.

After Hiram sowed the field of rye, he left the big wooden roller standing in the lane.  It was a big roller, almost five feet high!  One sunny forenoon Roy and Dorothy raced up the lane with little black Trip and white Snowball at their heels.