tanned by the fervid suns of the New Hampshire winter, and his hair had so far suffered from the example of the sheep lately under his charge, that he could not be classed by any stretch of comparison with the blonde and straighthaired members of Mrs. Johnson's family.

He remained with us all the first day until late in the afternoon, when his mother took him out to get him a boarding-house. Then he departed in the van of her and Naomi, pausing at the gate to collect his spirits, and, after he had sufficiently animated himself by clapping his palms together, starting off down the street at a handgallop, to the manifest terror of the cows in the pasture, and the confusion of the less demonstrative people of our household. Other characteristic traits appeared in Hippolyto Thucydides within no very long period of time, and he ran away from his lodgings so often during the summer that he might be said to board round among the outlying cornfields and turnip-patches of Charlesbridge. As a check upon this habit, Mrs. Johnson seemed to have invited him to spend his whole time in our basement; for whenever we went below we found him there, balanced— perhaps in homage to us, and perhaps as a token of extreme sensibility in himself-upon the low window-sill, the bottoms of his boots touching the floor inside, and his face buried in the grass without.

We could formulate no very tenable objection to all this, and yet the presence of Thucydides in our kitchen unaccountably oppressed our imaginations. We beheld him all over the house, a monstrous eidolon, balanced upon every window-sill; and he certainly attracted unpleasant notice to our place, no less by his furtive and hangdog manner of arrival than by the bold displays with which he celebrated his departures. We hinted this to Mrs. Johnson, but she could not enter into our feeling.

Indeed, all the wild poetry of her maternal and primitive nature seemed to cast itself about this hapless boy; and if we had listened to her we should have believed there was no one so agreeable in society, or so quick-witted in affairs, as Hippolyto, when he chose.

At last, when we said positively that Thucydides should come to us no more, and then qualified the prohibition by allowing him to come every Sunday, she answered that she never would hurt the child's feelings by telling him not to come where his mother was; that people who did not love her children did not love her; and that, if Hippy went, she went. We thought it a masterstroke of firmness to rejoin that Hippolyto must go in any event; but I am bound to own that he did not go, and that his mother stayed, and so fed us with every cunning propitiatory dainty, that we must have been Pagans to renew our threat. In fact, we begged Mrs. Johnson to go into the country with us, and she, after long reluctation on Hippy's account, consented, agreeing to send him away to friends during her absence.

We made every preparation, and on the eve of our departure Mrs. Johnson went into the city to engage her son's passage to Bangor, while we awaited her return in untroubled security.

But she did not appear till midnight, and then responded with but a sad "Well, sah!" to the cheerful "Well, Mrs. Johnson!" that greeted her.

"All right, Mrs. Johnson?"

Mrs. Johnson made a strange noise, half chuckle and half death-rattle, in her throat. "All wrong, sah. Hippy's off again; and I've been all over the city after him." "Then you can't go with us in the morning?" "How can I, sah?"

Mrs. Johnson went sadly out of the room. Then she

came back to the door again, and opening it, uttered, for the first time in our service, words of apology and regret: "I hope I ha'n't put you out any. I wanted to go with you, but I ought to knowed I could n't. All is, I loved you too much."

'A father said unto his hopeful son,
"Who was Leonidas, my cherished one?"
The boy replied, with words of ardent nature,
"He was a member of the legislature."

"How?" asked the parent; then the youngster saith: "He got a pass, and held her like grim death."

"Whose pass? what pass?" the anxious father cried;

66

"'T was the'r monopoly," the boy replied.

In deference to the public, we must state,
That boy has been an orphan since that date.

TEACHING BY EXAMPLE

BY JOHN G. SAXE

"What is the 'Poet's License,' say?"

Asked rose-lipped Anna of a poet.

"Now give me an example, pray,

That when I see one I may know it."

Quick as a flash he plants a kiss
Where perfect kisses always fall.

"Nay, sir! what liberty is this?"
"The Poet's License,-that is all!"

WHEN ALBANI SANG*

BY WILLIAM HENRY DRUMMOND

Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan morning not long ago,

Feexin' de fence for winter-'cos dat's w'ere we got de

snow!

W'en Jeremie Plouffe, ma neighbor, come over an' spik

wit' me,

"Antoine, you will come on de city, for hear Ma-dam All-ba-nee?"

"W'at you mean?" I was sayin' right off, me, "Some woman was mak' de speech,

Or girl onde Hooraw Circus, doin' high kick an' screech ?"

"Non-non," he is spikin'-"Excuse me, dat's be Madam All-ba-nee

Was leevin' down here on de contree, two mile 'noder side Chambly.

"She's jus' comin' over from Englan', on steamboat arrive Kebeck,

Singin' on Lunnon an' Paree, an' havin' beeg tam, I ex

pec',

But no matter de moche she enjoy it, for travel all roun'

de worl',

Somet'ing on de heart bring her back here, for she was de Chambly girl.

*From "The Habitant and Other French Canadian Poems," by William Henry Drummond. Copyright 1897 by G. P. Putnam's Sons.

"She never do not'ing but singin' an' makin' de beeg grande tour

An' travel on summer an' winter, so mus' be de firs' class for sure!

Ev'ryboddy I'm t'inkin' was know her, an' I also hear 'noder t'ing,

She's frien' on La Reine Victoria an' show her de way to

sing!"

"Wall," I say, "you're sure she is Chambly, w'at you call Ma-dam All-ba-nee?

Don't know me dat nam' on de Canton-I hope you're not fool wit' me?"

An he say, "Lajeunesse, dey was call her, before she is come mariée,

But she's takin' de nam' of her husban'-I s'pose dat's de only way."

"C'est bon, mon ami," I was say me, "If I get t'roo de fence nex' day

An' she don't want too moche on de monee, den mebbe I see her play."

So I finish dat job on to-morrow, Jeremie he was helpin'

me too,

'An' I say, "Len' me t'ree dollar quickly for mak' de voyage wit' you."

Correc' so we're startin' nex' morning, an' arrive Montreal all right,

Buy dollar tiquette on de bureau, an' pass on de hall dat

night.

Beeg crowd, wall! I bet you was dere too, all dress on some fancy dress,

De lady, I don't say not'ing, but man's all w'ite shirt an'

no ves'.