arer, he saw that the man was Jules, who was wailing and
moaning and upbraiding himself.

"Ah me!" said the conscience-stricken wood-cutter, "Ah me! I am a wretch
indeed. I have given myself up into the power of the Evil One. Not only
did I steal that child from his home, and from the good people who have
always befriended me, but I have left him to be devoured by a wild beast
of the forest. Whatever shall I do? Satan himself has got me in his
power, through my own covetousness and greed. How--oh! how--can I ever
get away from him?"

The little gnome had now approached quite close to Jules, and, running
up to him, he said:

"Let go of his tail!"

If the advice was good for him in an emergency, it might be good for
others.

Jules started to his feet and stood staring at the youngster he had
thought devoured.

"Whoever would have supposed," said he, at last, "that a little heathen
midget like that, born underground, like a mole, would ever come to me
and tell me my Christian duty. And he's right, too. Satan would never
have got hold of me if I hadn't been holding to him all these months,
hoping to get some good by it. I'll do it, my boy. I'll let go of his
tail, now and forever." And, without thinking to ask Class 81, Q, how he
got away from the bear, he took him up in his arms and ran home as fast
as he could go.

During the rest of the young gnome's stay with Selma, he had several
other good bits of advice in regard to emergencies, but none that was of
such general application as this counsel to let go of a cat's tail, or
the tail of anything else that was giving him trouble.

At the expiration of the session, the Queen Dowager was charmed with the
improvement in her grandson. Having examined him in regard to his
studies, she felt sure that he was now perfectly able to take care of
himself in any emergency that might occur to him.

On the morning after he left, Selma, when she awoke, saw lying on the
floor the little jacket and trousers of her late pupil. At first, she
thought it was the little fellow himself; but when she jumped up and
took hold of the clothes, she could not move them. They were filled with
gold.

This was the pay for the tuition of Class 81, Q.

CHURNING.

BY SARA KEABLES HUNT.

[Illustration]

I'm such an unfortunate dog, oh, dear!
To leave my nap and the sunshine clear,
And down in the cellar--the cold dark place--
I must turn my steps and sorrowful face,