On they rowed, and at last, came up with the boat.  Still no Walter was to be seen.  The poor father was in despair, when all at once Walter started up from under the great blanket, where he had been hiding.  He cried out, “Here I am, papa, safe and sound!”

“Oh, you little rogue!  Come here and let me pull your ears!” They all got back to their home in time for a late tea, which mother had kept warm for them.  Walter was kissed and then cuffed; but the cuffs were so tender, that they made him laugh even more than the kisses.

ALFRED STETSON.

* * * * *

“FLUTTER, FLUTTER!”

    Flutter, flutter, with never a stop,
    All the leaves have begun to drop;
    While the wind, with a skip and a hop,
    Goes about gathering in his crop.

    Flutter, flutter, on bustling-wings,
    All the plump little feathered things: 
    Thrush and bobolink, finch and jay,
    Follow the sun on his holiday.

    Flutter, flutter, the snowflakes all
    Jostle each other in their fall. 
    Crowd and push into last year’s nest,
    And hide the seeds from robin-redbreast.

    Flutter, flutter, the hours go by;
    Nobody sees them as they fly;
    Nobody hears their fairy tread,
    Nor the rustle of their wings instead.

MARY N. PRESCOTT.

[Illustration:  DRAWING-LESSON.]

CHRISTMAS BELLS

[Illustration:  CHRISTMAS BELLS.]

    “Are you waking?” shout the breezes
      To the tree-tops waving high,
    “Don’t you hear the happy tidings
      Whispered to the earth and sky? 
    Have you caught them in your dreaming,
      Brook and rill in snowy dells? 
    Do you know the joy we bring you
      In the merry Christmas bells? 
      Ding, dong! ding, dong, Christmas bells!

    “Are you waking, flowers that slumber
      In the deep and frosty ground? 
    Do you hear what we are breathing
      To the listening world around? 
    For we bear the sweetest story
      That the glad year ever tells: 
    How He loved the little children,—­
      He who brought the Christmas bells! 
      Ding, dong! ding, dong, Christmas bells!

GEORGE COOPER.

JACK THE MAGPIE.

One day last summer, a man in Colorado found a magpie by the roadside.  Its wings had been clipped, so that it could not fly.  The man gave it to a little boy named Ernest Hart.

He lived with his parents in a neat cottage near by a mountain stream.  He ran home, and showed the bird to his sister Edith.  They named it Jack.

Jack was quite a large bird.  His body was black as coal; his breast was white; and his wings and tail shaded off into a dark green.  His bill was long and very strong.  He had a shrewd, knowing look.  As he was quite tame, he must have been some one’s pet.