father," sobbed Maggie, "I ran away because I was so unhappy; Tom
was so angry with me. I couldn't bear it."

"Pooh, pooh," said Mr. Tulliver, soothingly, "you mustn't think o'
running away from father. What 'ud father do without his little wench?"

"Oh, no, I never will again, father--never."

Mr. Tulliver spoke his mind very strongly when he reached home that
evening; and the effect was seen in the remarkable fact that Maggie
never heard one reproach from her mother, or one taunt from Tom, about
this foolish business of her running away to the gypsies. Maggie was
rather awe-stricken by this unusual treatment, and sometimes thought
that her conduct had been too wicked to be alluded to.

Of the three children who are presented to us in these chapters,
Tom, Maggie and little Lucy, which is the most attractive to you?

Do you think the author meant us to receive this impression?

Is Maggie proud? Is she impetuous? Is she highly sensitive? Find as
many passages as you can which prove your answers to these
questions. Do these qualities usually make a person attractive?

What is the mainspring of Maggie's character--the motive for most
of her actions? Does Tom seem to you worthy of the intense
affection she bestows upon him? Do you think a person with Maggie's
nature would be likely to live a happy or an unhappy life?

Few writers have ever been able to draw as distinct, lifelike a
picture of a child as we have of Maggie Tulliver in _The Mill on
the Floss_. This is to be in part accounted for by the fact that it
is herself as a child that George Eliot is describing.

A GORILLA HUNT

_By_ PAUL DU CHAILLU

I had not been at the village long before news came that gorillas had
been recently seen in the neighborhood of a plantation only half a mile
distant. Early in the morning of the twenty-fifth of June, I wended my
way thither, accompanied by one of my boys, named Odanga. The plantation
was a large one, and situated on very broken ground, surrounded by the
virgin forest. It was a lovely morning; the sky was almost cloudless,
and all around was still as death, except the slight rustling of the
tree tops moved by the gentle land breeze. When I reached the place, I
had first to pick my way through the maze of tree stumps and half-burnt
logs by the side of a field of cassada. I was going quietly along the
borders of this, when I heard, in th