and pony, instead of a bird.

There are so many beautiful birds in the aviaries, so many odd fowls in
the poultry-house, and strange fish in the aquaria, that it is
impossible to see them all in one day, and the best thing to do now is
to rest on a seat in the cool shade of the vast conservatory, among
strange and beautiful plants from all parts of the world. And on every
holiday the happy children say, "We will go to the Jardin
d'Acclimatation, where there is so much to enjoy, and so much to learn."

FRANK'S WAR WITH THE 'COONS.

BY GEORGE J. VARNEY.

Last month I spent several weeks at a farm within sight of the White
Mountains. One morning the boy Frank came in with a basket of sweet-corn
on his arm, and a bad scowl on his countenance.

"What is the matter, Frank?" inquired his mother, coming from the
pantry.

Indignation was personified in him, as he answered, "Them pigs has been
in my corn."

"I hadn't heard that the pigs had been out. Did they do much harm?"

"Yes, they spoiled a peck of corn, sure; broke the ears half off, and
some all off. Rubbed 'em all in the dirt, and only ate half the corn.
Left 'most all one side. They didn't know enough to pull the husks clear
off."

Just then the hired man came in, and Frank repeated his complaint of the
pigs.

"They hain't been out of their yard for a week, I know. I heard some
'coons yellin' over in the woods back of the orchard last night. I guess
them's the critters that's been in your corn piece."

"S'pose they'll come again to-night?" inquired the boy, every trace of
displeasure vanishing.

"Likely 's not. They 'most always do when they get a good bite, and
don't get scared."

"I'll fix 'em to-night," said the boy, with a broad smile at the
anticipated sport.

Twilight found Frank sitting patiently on a large pumpkin in the edge of
his corn piece, gun in hand, watching for the 'coons. An hour later his
patience was gone, and the 'coons hadn't come--at least he had no notice
of their coming. As he started from his rolling seat a slight sound in
the midst of the corn put him on the alert. He walked softly along
beside the outer row, stopping frequently to listen, until he could
distinctly hear the rustling of the corn leaves, and even the sound of
gnawing corn from the cob. His heart beat fast with excitement as he
became assured of the presence of a family of raccoons, and he held his
gun ready to pop over the first one that showed itself.