we found a quantity of drift-wood; we gathered some, and built a fire.  Uncle James produced some bread and crackers from his basket, and, after roasting some of the nice, fat mackerel on sharp sticks before the fire, we sat down to what seemed to us a delicious breakfast.  We were in excellent spirits, and George and I cracked jokes and laughed to our hearts’ content.  After our hunger had been satisfied, we wandered over the island, which we christened Mackerel Island, and, sitting upon a high cliff, watched the seals as they bobbed their heads out of the water, and turned their intelligent, dog-like faces, with visible curiosity, toward us.  They did not seem to be at all afraid, for they swam close to the rock upon which we sat.  We whistled, and they were evidently attracted by the sound.  These seals are numerous in some of the bays on the New England coast.  Most of them are small, but occasionally one is seen of considerable size.  Their fur is coarse and of little value, but they are sought after by fishermen for the sake of their oil, which commands a ready sale for a good price.  After we had got fully rested, we launched our boat, rowed homeward, and soon landed upon the beach.

SPRING AND SUMMER.

By Dora read Goodale.

  In Spring we note the breaking
    Of every baby bud;
  In Spring we note the waking
    Of wild flowers of the wood;
  In Summer’s fuller power,
    In Summer’s deeper soul,
  We watch no single flower,—­
    We see, we breathe the whole.

THE AX OF RANIER.

By Thomas Dunn English.

Once upon a time, there lived on the borders of a forest an old woman named Jehanne, who had an only son, a youth of twenty-one years, who was called Ranier.  Where the two had originally come from no one knew; but they had lived in their little hut for many years.  Ranier was a wood-cutter, and depended on his daily labor for the support of himself and mother, while the latter eked out their scanty means by spinning.  The son, although poor, was not without learning, for an old monk in a neighboring convent had taught him to read and write, and had given him instructions in arithmetic.  Ranier was handsome, active and strong, and very much attached to his mother, to whom he paid all the honor and obedience due from a son to a parent.

One morning in spring, Ranier went to his work in the forest with his ax on his shoulder, whistling one of the simple airs of the country as he pursued his way.  Striding along beneath the branches of the great oaks and chestnuts, he began to reflect upon the hard fate which seemed to doom him to toil and wretchedness, and, thus thinking, whistled no longer.  Presently he sat down upon a moss-covered rock, and laying his ax by his side, let his thoughts shape themselves into words.