Oh, beau-ti-ful tri-um-phant day! 
    When light of heart and free from pain,
  The pa-tient lad has slipped away,
    And “Mon-key Jack” climbs trees again!

[Illustration]

Here are a num-ber of lit-tle tots, and what do you think they are do-ing?  I think the lit-tle girl on her knees is pay-ing for-feits.

A PAIR OF FRIENDS.

[Illustration]

Tab-by and Rover are very good friends, so that she is not at all a-fraid to eat out of his dish when-ev-er she has not din-ner e-nough of her own.

A RAIN-Y DAY.

Rain, rain, rain!  How it did rain!  The great drops ran down the glass in streams.  Tom, Jack, and lit-tle Meg watched it for a long time.  “O dear!” they said at last, “do you think it will nev-er clear?  We want to go out and play.”

[Illustration]

“Why do you not go up to the gar-ret, and play?” asked their mam-ma.

That struck them as a fine plan; and off they trooped, pound-ing up the bare stairs with their nois-y feet.  They found three old brooms, and be-gan to play soldier,—­Tom first, then Jack, with Meg last of all.  The gar-ret was ver-y large; and their mam-ma could hear them as they tramped a-long, and could hear Tom’s com-mand to right a-bout face when they had reached the farth-er end.

By and by they tired of play-ing sol-dier; and then they pulled down some old dress-es and hats that hung on a peg, and put them on, and made be-lieve that they were grown peo-ple.  Then, out of an old box, they dragged a scrap-book full of pic-tures, and sat them down to look them o-ver.

[Illustration]

Mean-time their friend Rose had come, all wrapped up, through the rain, to make them a call.  She brought a bas-ket, in which were her two kit-tens.

“The chil-dren are in the gar-ret,” said their mam-ma.

So Rose ran up to find them.  She did find them; but what do you think?—­they were fast a-sleep.

[Illustration]

  Sweet is the voice that calls
  From bab-bling wa-ter-falls
    In mead-ows where the down-y
      seeds are fly-ing,
  And soft the breez-es blow,
  And ed-dy-ing come and go,
    In fad-ed gar-dens where the
      rose is dy-ing

THE QUARREL.

[Illustration]

Grace and Bell have had a quar-rel.  Bell was most at fault, but now she is ver-y sor-ry for what she has done.  So she kiss-es her sis-ter, and the trou-ble is all o-ver.

OLD WINTER.

[Illustration]

  Old Win-ter is com-ing; a-lack, a-lack! 
    How i-cy and cold is he! 
  He’s wrapped to the heels in a snow-y white sack;
  The trees he has lad-en till read-y to crack;
  He whis-tles his trills with a won-der-ful knack,
    For he comes from a cold coun-tree.