t started a handsome monument has been
erected, bearing the names of the two builders--Joseph and Stephen
Montgolfier--the brothers who always worked together, sharing equally
the fame that their discovery brought, and never selfishly seeking for
self-advancement. Recent searchings seem to show that the principal
honour is due to Joseph, the elder, and, if one of the many stories told
in detail (and repeated at the beginning of this article) may be relied
upon, surely we ought to also remember with some praise the unknown
woman who let lodgings in Avignon.

JOHN LEA.

THE WAY TO WIN.

'I wish I could win one!' a lassie was sighing,
When sitting quite still in a meadow one day,
And thinking of prizes not won without trying--
Not won by mere wishing as time slips away.

And as she sat wishing she heard a hen clucking;
She lifted her eyes and that hen she could see,
And soon it was rapidly scratching and chucking--
As gay and as busy and glad as could be.

She watched how it struggled to upturn a treasure,
A thing it was wishing for, something to eat,
A worm to be dug for with patience and pleasure!
'Twas found, and it gave Henny-Penny a treat!

That worm the hen wished for she could not have eaten
Unless she had scratched it right up from the ground;
And Mabel had seen that the hen was not beaten--
By carefully _working_ the prize had been found.

So Mabel thought quietly over the matter,
And learnt the good lesson, 'No prize can be won
By thinking and wishing, by waiting and chatter!'
And soon she jumped up and to work she begun.

D. H.

FREED IN VAIN.

Prince, the parrot, was a proud and happy bird; he was proud of his
gorgeous red and green feathers, of his ability to say 'Pretty Poll' and
'How do?' and, above all, of his fine gilded cage, which stood just
inside the breakfast-room window.

But, in an evil hour, Prince, watching the birds which flew to and fro
outside the glass, was struck with a desire for freedom. He thought no
more of his splendid feathers, or his handsome cage; but, from morning
till night, he wondered how he should get out. There was not wit enough
in his parrot brain to make him understand that the cold English garden
was not in the least like the flowery forest of his native island.

His chance came one snowy morning; the French window had been opened,
after brea