The vis-it seemed to do Ruth a great deal of good; for a pink flush came in her cheeks, and she e-ven laughed, which her moth-er said she had not done before for weeks.

They came a-gain the ver-y next day.  Miss Gray was with them, and car-ried a bas-ket on her arm in which were some dain-ties to tempt the sick girl’s ap-pe-tite.  She was glad to see them, and told them they should have the kit-ten for their ver-y own.  So pus-sy went back in the bas-ket which had brought the dain-ties.

Near-ly ev-er-y day af-ter this the chil-dren went to see Ruth, for at least a week.  By that time she was well e-nough to be out, and some-times came to see them.

[Illustration]

What is it that these lit-tle tots are all so anx-ious to see?  It must be a Christ-mas-tree.

ROB JACKSON’S DOG.

[Illustration]

Rob Jack-son’s dog jumped off the lit-tle bridge in-to the mill pond to fetch a stick that Hal Jones threw for him.  The wheel was in full mo-tion, and Jack, for that was the dog’s name, was drawn in toward it.  Rob was a-fraid that Jack was go-ing to be drowned and was just a-bout to jump in af-ter him, when one of the mill hands held him fast.  “Wait a bit,” said the man, and he held out a long pole to Jack who clutched it with his teeth and was drawn safely to land.

[Illustration]

The wives of Brixham.

  The merry boats of Brixham
  Go out to search the seas;
  A staunch and sturdy fleet are they,
  Who love a swinging breeze;
  And before the woods of Devon,
  And the silver cliffs of Wales,
  You may see, when summers evenings fall,
  The light upon their sails.

  But when the year grows darker,
  And gray winds hunt the foam,
  They go back to Little Brixham,
  And ply their toil at home. 
  And thus it chanced one winter’s night,
  When a storm began to roar,
  That all the men were out at sea,
  And all the wives on shore.

  Then as the wind grew fiercer,
  The women’s cheeks grew white,
  It was fiercer in the twilight. 
  And fiercest in the night. 
  The strong clouds set themselves like ice,
  Without a star to melt,
  The blackness of the darkness
  Was darkness to be felt.

  The storm like an assassin
  Went on its wicked way,
  And struck a hundred boats adrift,
  To reel about the bay. 
  They meet, they crash—­God keep the men! 
  God give a moment’s light! 
  There is nothing but the tumult,
  And the tempest and the night.

  The men on shore were anxious,
  They dreaded what they knew;
  What do you think the women did? 
  Love taught them what to do! 
  Out spake a wife, “We’ve beds at home,
  We’ll burn them for a light: 
  Give us the men and the bare ground! 
  We want no more to-night.”