ine what joy there was when the two reached home. Everyone
had been looking for them, and the big sister had not been able to
sleep, for she thought the wolves had eaten them up.

Otto met them; he had a basket in his hand and said: 'Look, here is
something that an old man has just left for you.'

When the girls looked into the basket they saw a pair of most beautiful
bracelets of precious stones, dark red, and made in the shape of a ripe
raspberry and with an inscription: 'To Lisa and Aina'; beside them there
was a diamond breast pin in the shape of a raspberry worm: on it was
inscribed 'Otto, never destroy the helpless!'

Otto felt rather ashamed: he quite understood what it meant, but he
thought that the old man's revenge was a noble one.

The raspberry king had also remembered the big sister, for when she went
in to set the table for dinner, she found eleven big baskets of most
beautiful raspberries, and no one knew how they had come there, but
everyone guessed.

And so there was such a jam-making as had never been seen before, and if
you like to go and help in it, you might perhaps get a little, for they
must surely be making jam still to this very day.

From Z. Topelius.

_THE STONES OF PLOUHINEC_

PERHAPS some of you may have read a book called 'Kenneth; or the
Rear-Guard of the Grand Army of Napoleon.' If so, you will remember how
the two Scotch children found in Russia were taken care of by the French
soldiers and prevented as far as possible from suffering from the
horrors of the terrible Retreat. One of the soldiers, a Breton, often
tried to make them forget how cold and hungry they were by telling them
tales of his native country, Brittany, which is full of wonderful
things. The best and warmest place round the camp fire was always given
to the children, but even so the bitter frost would cause them to
shiver. It was then that the Breton would begin: 'Plouhinec is a small
town near Hennebonne by the sea,' and would continue until Kenneth or
Effie would interrupt him with an eager question. Then he forgot how his
mother had told him the tale, and was obliged to begin all over again,
so the story lasted a long while, and by the time it was ended the
children were ready to be rolled up in whatever coverings could be
found, and go to sleep.

It is this story that I am going to tell to you.

* * * * *

Plouhinec is a small town near Hennebonne by the sea.