t's-its-name Lake,
So I think it's about _my_ turn, I do,
To ask a question or so of you.

The schoolmaster grim, he opened his eyes,
But said not a word for sheer surprise.

Can you tell what "phen-dubs" means? I can.
Can you say all off by heart
The "onery twoery ickery ann,"
Or tell "alleys" and "commons" apart?
Can _you_ fling a top, I would like to know,
Till it hums like a bumble-bee?
Can you make a kite yourself that will go
'Most as high as the eye can see,
Till it sails and soars like a hawk on the wing,
And the little birds come and light on its string?

The schoolmaster looked oh! very demure,
But his mouth was twitching, I'm almost sure.

Can you tell where the nest of the oriole swings,
Or the color its eggs may be?
Do you know the time when the squirrel brings
Its young from their nest in the tree?
Can you tell when the chestnuts are ready to drop
Or where the best hazel-nuts grow?
Can you climb a high tree to the very tip-top,
Then gaze without trembling below?
Can you swim and dive, can you jump and run,
Or do anything else we boys call fun?

The master's voice trembled as he replied:
"You are right, my lad, I'm the dunce," he sighed.

E.J. WHEELER.

[Illustration: Little Mer-Folks.]

WON'T TAKE A BAFF.

[Illustration: ESCAPE.]

To the brook in the green meadow dancing,
The tree-shaded, grass-bordered brook,
For a bath in its cool, limpid water,
Old Dinah the baby boy took.

She drew off his cunning wee stockings,
Unbuttoned each dainty pink shoe,
Untied the white slip and small apron,
And loosened his petticoats, too.

And while Master Blue Eyes undressing,
She told him in quaintest of words
Of the showers that came to the flowers,
Of the rills that were baths for the birds.

And she said, "Dis yere sweetest of babies,
W'en he's washed, jess as hansum'll be
As any red, yaller or blue bird
Dat ebber singed up in a tree.

"An' sweeter den rosies an' lilies,
Or wiolets eder, I guess--"
When away flew the mischievous darling,
In the scantiest kind of a dress.

"Don't care if the birdies an' fowers,"
He shouted, with clear, ringing laugh,
"Wash 'eir hands an' 'eir faces forebber
An' ebber, _me_ won't take a baff."

MARGARET EYTINGE.

ONE WAY TO BE BRAVE.

(_A TRUE STORY._)

"[[P]]apa," exclaimed six-year-old M