er hearing that read, they wanted me to sing it to them.

Then the night-dresses were brought, and snugly in their little bed the
brown eyes and blue eyes were closed, and my happy little boys went
"over the hills to By-lo-land."

MRS. F. A. B. D.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

THE SUMMER SHOWER.

WELL do I remember dear old aunt Rachel, as we called her, my first
schoolmistress. She wore spectacles, and I have heard it said that she
sometimes took snuff; but, if she did, she was careful not to do it in
the presence of her pupils.

She was the aunt of nobody in particular; but, had she been aunt to all
of us, she could not have taken more pains to keep us from harm, and to
lead us in the way of right.

One day, just as school was dismissed in the afternoon, a severe
rain-storm began. "Oh! how shall I get you all home," said the dear old
lady, opening the door, and looking up at the clouds.

First she fitted me and my little sister Eva out with her best umbrella,
and told us to make the best speed we could, and send the umbrella back.

As for the boys, they ran out, rejoicing in the rain, and well pleased
at the prospect of getting wet through. The other little girls were kept
waiting till the sky should clear, or some one should come for them.

My sister and I started off, side by side, under our umbrella. It was a
large cotton one, with a long, heavy handle,--just about suited to the
capacity of a giant. But, by taking hold very high up, I managed to
carry it without any trouble, and it kept us both dry. We really enjoyed
our walk; and, the harder the rain came down, the better we liked it.

No sooner had we got home than the clouds broke, and patches of blue sky
began to appear. Then Eva spied a rainbow. So mother told us to put on
dry shoes and stockings, and take back the umbrella.

How glad Aunt Rachel was to see and welcome us! "I am so glad you did
not get wet," said she; "but, as for those wild boys, they would rush
out into the rain, and I could not keep them from it."

IDA FAY.

A MONKEY STORY.

THIS is one of the true stories that I tell my little boys over and over
again, as we sit before the fire, and make ready for their journey to
"Sleepy-Land."

"When your grandfather was a lad about twelve years old, an uncle of his
made a voyage to South America, and brought home as