e pelicans and brown
ducks, and hundreds of smaller birds that chase the skimming flies
over the water.

If Manenko could read, she would be sorry that she has no books;
and if she knew what dolls are, she might be longing every day for a
beautiful wax doll, with curling hair, and eyes to open and shut. But
these are things of which she knows nothing at all, and she is happy
enough in watching the hornets building their hanging nests on the
branches of the trees, cutting the small sticks of sugar-cane, or
following the honey-bird's call.

If the children who have books would oftener leave them, and study
the wonders of the things about them,--of the birds, the plants, the
curious creatures that live and work on the land and in the air and
water,--it would be better for them. Try it, dear children; open your
eyes and look into the ways and forms of life in the midst of which
God has placed you, and get acquainted with them, till you feel that
they, too, are your brothers and sisters, and God your Father and
theirs.

LOUISE, THE CHILD OF THE BEAUTIFUL RIVER RHINE.

Have you heard of the beautiful River Rhine--how at first it hides, a
little brook among the mountains and dark forests, and then steals out
into the sunshine, and leaps down the mountain-side, and hurries
away to the sea, growing larger and stronger as it runs, curling and
eddying among the rocks, and sweeping between the high hills where the
grape-vines grow and the solemn old castles stand?

How people come from far and near to see and to sail upon the
beautiful river! And the children who are so blessed as to be born
near it, and to play on its shores through all the happy young years
of their lives, although they may go far away from it in the after
years, never, never forget the dear and beautiful River Rhine.

It is only a few miles away from the Rhine--perhaps too far for you to
walk, but not too far for me--that we shall find a fine large house,
a house with pleasant gardens about it, broad gravel walks, and soft,
green grass-plats to play upon, and gay flowering trees and bushes,
while the rose-vines are climbing over the piazza, and opening
rose-buds are peeping in at the chamber windows.

Isn't this a pleasant house? I wish we could all live in as charming
a home, by as blue and lovely a river, and with as large and sweet
a garden, or, if we might have such a place for our school, how
delightful it would be!

Here lives Louise, my b