the rack with deep hay, then spread a buffalo robe over the
hay to make it comfortable. He sat on a board placed across the front
and drove the span of horses, and as he drove, he told funny stories and
sang songs till the children thought a hermit was a pretty good sort of
a chum.

The hut went to pieces years ago, and only a pile of stones marks the
place where it stood, but if you go to Concord, you will find a pleasant
street named for Thoreau, and the house in which he lived the last
twelve years of his life, half hidden by tall trees. And also you can
read his books and learn how he enjoyed the woods and what beautiful
things he found in them.

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT

As much as seventy years ago, in the city of Boston, there lived a small
girl who had the naughty habit of running away. On a certain April
morning, almost as soon as her mother finished buttoning her dress,
Louisa May Alcott slipped out of the house and up the street as fast as
her feet could carry her.

Louisa crept through a narrow alley and crossed several streets. It was
a beautiful day, and she did not care so very much just where she went
so long as she was having an adventure, all by herself. Suddenly she
came upon some children who said they were going to a nice, tall ash
heap to play. They asked her to join them.

Louisa thought they were fine playmates, for when she grew hungry they
shared some cold potatoes and bread crusts with her. She would not have
thought this much of a lunch in her mother's dining-room, but for an
outdoor picnic it did very well.

When she tired of the ash heap she bade the children good-by, thanked
them for their kindness, and hop-skipped to the Common, where she must
have wandered about for hours, because, all of a sudden, it began to
grow dark. Then she wanted to get home. She wanted her doll, her kitty,
and her mother! It frightened her when she could not find any street
that looked natural. She was hungry and tired, too. She threw herself
down on some door-steps to rest and to watch the lamplighter, for you
must remember this was long before there was any gas or electricity in
Boston. At this moment a big dog came along. He kissed her face and
hands and then sat down beside her with a sober look in his eyes, as if
he were thinking: "I guess, Little Girl, you need some one to take care
of you!"

Poor tired Louisa leaned against his neck and was fast asleep in no
time. The dog kept very still. He did