g a calling suited to his taste, and better prepare him to enter
some practical industry, if his choice should incline toward such an
occupation.

A few years ago, manual training in modeling, wood-carving, carpentry,
forge-work, and other branches, was introduced into a technical course
in the College of the City of New York, in East Twenty-third street.
To-day it is one of the most interesting features of the College work,
and is highly appreciated by the students. Private schools in this city,
as also some of the public and private schools of Boston and
Philadelphia, have introduced the workshop into their methods of
instruction, and devote a few hours in each week to practical and manual
labor.

The models illustrated in this article represent many well spent and
helpful hours of recreation, and other boys may find pleasure and profit
in making similar use of their leisure time and their powers of
handicraft.

A NEW VIEW OF THE MOON.

BY EVA LOVETT CARSON.

A little boy just two years old,
Or maybe two months older,
Came riding home across the lot,
Perched on his father's shoulder.

"Look, Oswald! Hold your head up straight!
(Do stop that dreadful drumming!)
See, just above where Mamma stands
A little moon is coming!"

The baby lifts his round blue eyes;
The moon laughs at their glancing.
To see the wonder of his gaze
'Most sets the moon a-dancing.

Frowning, he solved the problem soon;
Indignantly he spoke it:
"Papa, dat's not the big wound moon;
I fink _somebody b'oke it_!"

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

[Illustration]

Away--ho, away!--Let us off on a quest!
To the North--to the South--to the East--to the West!
To the West, to find where the sunsets go
When the skies are as red as roses a-blow;
To the East, to see whence the mornings come;
To the South, the Summer to track to her home;
To the North, by the gleam of the Polar Star,
And Night's aurora flaming afar,
To seek, in the keen and biting weather,
The lodestone that holds the world together.

Now and then somebody writes out the very thoughts of the birds; and
then again, others tell me very prettily just what they think ought to
be felt by the tuneful-minded little creatures. Here, for instance,
comes this scrap of verse from my friend Emily A. Braddock that I hope
not only you children, but all of my birds