o
the water. Poor Tabby! She thought she certainly would be drowned.

But Ponto knew better. He held his head so high that the water hardly
touched her pretty little paws. So she kept quiet and did not struggle. It
was not so bad after all! And besides, there was the milk!

When they landed, Tabby had a stiff neck for a while, and Ponto had to
shake his great shaggy sides until they were dry. Then they ran up the
hill as fast as they could go, and into the barn,--and almost into the
milk-pail before they could stop.

Tabby was very thankful to Ponto for this ride. She said to herself that
she would help him to climb a tree the next time that he tried. But as she
drank her milk, she was glad that they both could follow Mary home by the
long path through the orchard.

Tabby did not forget her strange ride. But she has never taught Ponto how
to climb a tree! She has not even helped him up to the lowest limb. Do you
think she ever will?

LULLABY.

Little boy John is sleepy,
Little boy John can rest,
Now that the sun all its labor has done,
And gone to its bed in the west.

Rattle goes into the closet,
Letter-blocks go there too;
Wait till the morn for the cow in the corn,
And the horn of the Little Boy Blue.

Into the crib with Johnny,
As soon as his prayers are said;
Tuck him all in from the toes to the chin,
Alone in his soft, downy bed.

Then in the morning early,
Soon as the sun shall rise,
Little boy John, with the coming of dawn,
Will open his pretty blue eyes.

Butterflies in the garden,
Roses, and lilies fair,
Birds in the trees, and the big bumble-bees,
Shall welcome our little one there.

Yet if the day be rainy,
Dreary and dark the sky,
Still there is fun for our own little one,
In the nursery cozy and dry.

Beat a big drum all morning,
Build a card-house till noon,
Play after that with the dog and the cat,
Will keep little Johnny in tune.

Little boy John is sleepy,
Winks with his two little eyes,
Nods with his head--so we put him to bed,
And under the cover he lies.

[Illustration]

THE LETTER-BOX.

The readers of ST. NICHOLAS are so familiar, by this time, with the new
cover of the magazine, that they can understand, better perhaps than at
first, how much this cover, which Mr. Walter Crane has so carefully