danger. But it was worse for his mamma, who just happened to be passing in a corridor upstairs, and from a window there saw, to her distress, little three-year-old Harry rapidly scrambling down alone, while cook was evidently too frightened to reach and keep him safe; and the next moment Harry lost his balance, or missed his footing, and fell from the ladder, a dreadful fall of ten feet, down on the hard, rough, sharp stone pavement, where his poor little head struck on a great round stone.

His mamma flew into the yard, and reached his side almost as soon as cook got down the ladder. So it was Harry's mamma first snatched him up from the stones, where he was lying quite still. When she looked at his face she was dreadfully frightened. Quick as thought she remembered what she heard once should be done. She ran with him across the yard to the pump, and calling to the terrified cook to follow and work the handle gently, she held Harry's head low under the spout, and let the water pour from the height in a strong stream on it, and in a few seconds she thankfully saw her dear little boy's eyes come all right. He looked up and said, "Oh, mamma, my head is so tired."

When the doctor came, he said Harry must be kept very quiet and in a dark room, but that the prompt use of the coldwater cure had saved him a great deal of suffering. Cook was so sorry, and after her day's work, she insisted on sitting by Harry all night and nursing him with every attention.

But it did him no more harm. He is a fine strong boy over ten now, and does not care the least about kittens nor cats.

FATHER'S 'BUS.

LOVE to see children who live in the suburbs of town or city watching at the window or garden-gate for the 'bus or tram-car, which generally brings 'dear father" home from business. It brings rest to his weary face to see the children's fond bright eyes and their gestures of delighted greeting.

Three little brothers who live quite close to us are in the habit of coming out to meet their father as he steps out of the 'bus, all eager to lay hold of his hands, and to carry his parcels and umbrella into the house. They chatter in chorus, and I feel sure he cannot understand half they tell him; but his grave eyes begin to twinkle, and he smiles and chuckles, and very soon feels and looks very like a happy boy himself. I feel to love these affectionate children and their sunshiny ways, and my heart bounds gladly, when I see the dinner-time and evening 'buses and tram-cars start from the town with so many fathers inside them, and on the top of them too. Sweet smiles and gentle childish caresses await them when they alight; and true golden love and these make home what it is, the dearest and loveliest spot on earth. EMILY JANE MOORE.

"TEETH IN HIS TOES." LITTLE boy, playing with a dog, discovered for the first time that the animal had claws; whereupon he ran into the house, exclaiming, with open-eyed wonder, "Oh, mother, Fido has got teeth in his toes!"

father lives. He is well known to be honest, civil, and respectable. You may laugh, Master Delisle; I say "respectable," because I think every boy and man, whatever be his calling, may be respectable. It is not fine clothes, plenty of money, and a handsome dwelling that will make us that. It is " manners make the man." Far better to be a clean sweep than a dirty nobleman.

I wish all our London sweeps would follow Bob Short's example.

BY-AND-BY.

E.

HERE'S a little mischief-making
Elfin, who is ever nigh,
Thwarting every undertaking,

And his name is By-and-by.
"What we ought to do this minute,
Will be better done," he'll cry;
"If to-morrow we begin it;
Put it off," says By-and-by."

RS. M'MURDLE was the owner of more than one apple-tree, be it known-to say nothing of cherry, plum, and quince trees in abundance-for her lot extended from Snipe to Dorset Street, and she had lived there twenty-six years, and planted every tree herself, together with Mr. M'Murdle.

Our interest, however, is with a single one-the one near the fence at the lower end of the yard, having a limb extending

over.

This was Mrs. M'Murdle's harvest apple-tree. Delicious apples they were, to be sure, when ripe, as every boy in the neighbourhood would have informed you with a grin, no doubt, for every boy within two blocks knew as much of their sweetness and juiciness as Mrs. M'Murdle herself.

She had vowed and declared times innumerable it should be cut down, for she rarely ever succeeded in securing more than a peck for herself, and it was not only discouraging, but exasperating in the extreme. She had also left no method untried to frighten the mischievous lads, without success, even to dressing up a pillow in her best gingham dress, with sunbonnet to match, and seating the figure upon a chair under the arbour, in sight of the apple-tree, with a newspaper fastened in some incomprehensible manner

before her. Mrs. M'Murdle thought it must strike terror, or at least fear, to the heart of any daring lad.

Even this, however, was a failure, for one unlucky morning the wind in a fit of merriment took the bonnet quite off the reader's head, leaving the tell-tale pillow exposed; and little Tommy Bradford, peering through the fence with round, eager eyes at the golden apples out of reach, saw the mishap, and directly every boy around knew of the ruse, and was capering about in frantic joy. And that very night every apple on the tree disappeared. And, to add to the general confusion of things, the grocer, who came for orders the following morning, raised his hat politely to the silent figure still intent upon the paper, and said, "Good morning, Mrs. M'Murdle. How do you do?" and immediately after looked more crestfallen than poor Mrs. M'Murdle did, who was feeling extremely unamiable, and incapable of relishing the idea that such a disreputable-looking creature should be taken for her own trim self.

This belonged to the past, and the summer had come again, and the sun was turning the apples a golden yellow, when Mrs. M'Murdle bethought herself of another expedient, better, she believed, than any resorted to before. When she communicated it to Mr. M'Murdle, however, that gentleman smiled an incredulous, discouraging smile, and shook his head to add force to his reply, "Never answer, old lady, depend upon it."

"We'll see, Zedekiah," said Mrs. M'Murdle, shaking her wise old head also. "We'll see."

And then she went direct to the back kitchen to think the matter out, and talk it out, too, for that matter, for the good woman had a way of talking aloud, even when Mr. M'Murdle was not around.

"I have always been as spiteful with the boys as a black cat," she began, bending over the three-legged refrigerator in the corner. Why she considered a black cat possessed of more venom than any other we cannot tell.

"I've snapped and snarled at 'em ever since the old tree bore apples," she continued, "and now we'll see what a dose of something else will do. I'll have a wedding party!"

After this decided announcement to the refrigerator, Mrs. M'Murdle nodded vehemently, and began counting upon her fingers, nodding still at the refrigerator between every count.

"There's Tom Bradford-he's the leader in every mischief afloat. I'll invite him first. Next comes Fred Loftus and Tim M'Creedy, and Sammy Fleetwood, and Henry Warren-that's five, and there's seven vegetable beds. Let me see, Willy Owens and Mike M'Bride are as bad as the worst, and I'll have them; and that makes seven-a boy to a bed; and we'll

Having settled this to her satisfaction, together with one or two domestic matters, she left the kitchen to put this new theory to a practical test; and four hours later, when Mr. M'Murdle returned from an afternoon stroll, no more surprised individual could be found than himself when he saw these seven notoriously rough lads charging at the weeds with a spirit and energy worth seeing, and Mrs. M'Murdle going about from bed to bed, chatting and laughing with the lads as merrily as a young girl.

"Of all the queer things!" exclaimed Mr. M'Murdle, quickly adjusting his spectacles, to be positive he was not deceived. "I never could have been brought to believe she would do it!"

This was quite correct, and the good