ned on these round, shining pins, with "E. C."
embroidered on them, as Cricket said.

Would my little readers like a glimpse of this "really-truly" paper of
"really-truly" little girls?

Well, then, the club meeting was held, by common consent, on the piazza,
instead of in "Rocky Nook," for the boys insisted on being present, and
Auntie Jean hinted that an invitation to herself and grandma would be
much appreciated.

"You mustn't anybody laugh," said Eunice, finally, in some trepidation.

"We'll be as sober as--crocodiles," promised Will, "and I don't know
anything more serious than a crocodile."

So, when the audience was duly assembled on the piazza, the "Echo Club"
marched out of the house, headed by President Eunice, the secretary and
treasurer following, while the editor, all in a flutter, carrying the
precious paper laid flat in an atlas, brought up the rear. The president
sat down, gravely, in a big chair reserved for her, while the secretary
took a seat by her side, though she cast a longing look at the hammock,
which was regarded as undignified. The editor, vainly trying to control
her smiles and restrain her dimples, stood behind the table, and began.

"I copied the top part of it from a real newspaper, auntie," she said,
opening the sheet. "Now, boys, remember, if you laugh the least bit,
I'll stop. And, oh, auntie, I forgot to say that the boys wrote some of
the atoms."

"Atoms?" repeated Auntie Jean, puzzled.

"_Atoms!_ Miss Scricket, oh, ho!" called Archie; then, recollecting
himself just in time, he clapped his hands over his mouth.

"That's what you said they were, I thought," said Cricket, anxiously.
"Don't you know, auntie, those little things that come between the
stories, and all that? General atoms. I have written it down."

"Items, dear," said auntie, soberly.

"Items--atoms," repeated Cricket, thoughtfully, comparing the sounds.
"Yes, of course. How silly of me. I'll change it right away. Well, the
boys wrote most of them, anyway. Now, I'm all ready," and Cricket
cleared her throat, and began.

The Echo.

SERELLA CARLILLIAN, _Editor_.

NO. 1. _Marbury, Wednesday, July 15th, 18--._ VOL. I.

DELL'S COMPOSITION.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Dell Ripley, "next Friday is Composition Day,
and I've got to write a composition. What subject shall I take,
mamma?"

"Are there not any subjects in your school composition-