eaties, but they were not needed. The
good-natured little gentleman no sooner saw Fatima's real distress
than he lowered his pole, and sank upon his knees on the grass, with a
face of genuine penitence.

"'I _am_ so sorry I've been tormenting you so!' he exclaimed. 'I
forgot you were really frightened, and you see I knew it wasn't a
ghost.'

"'I heard it,' murmured Fatima resolutely, with her eyes half shut.

"'So did I,' said the Irishman, gaily; 'I've heard it dozens of times.
It's the owls.'

"We both exclaimed.

"'Ah!' he said, comically, 'I see you don't believe me! That's what
comes of telling so many small fibs. But it's true, I assure you. (And
the brown eyes did look particularly truthful.) Barn-door owls do make
a noise that is very like the snoring of an old man. And there are
some young ones who live in the spout at the corner of the wall of
your room. They're snoring and scrambling in and out of that spout all
night.'

"It was quite true, Ida, as we found, when Fatima was at last
persuaded to visit the corner where the rooms had been pulled down,
and where, decorated with ivy, the old spout formed a home for the
snoring owls. By the aid of the long pole he brought out a young one
to our view--a shy, soft, lovely, shadow-tinted creature, ghostly
enough to behold, who felt like an impalpable mass of fluff, utterly
refused to be kissed, and went savagely blinking back into his spout
at the earliest possible opportunity. His snoring alarmed us no more."

"And the noise really was that?" said Ida.

"It really was, my dear."

"It's a splendid story," said Ida; "you see, I didn't go to sleep
_this_ time. And what became of everybody, please? Did the red-haired
young lady marry the Irishman?"

"Very soon afterwards, my dear," said Mrs. Overtheway. "We kept up
our friendship, too, in after life; and I have many times amused their
children with the story of the Snoring Ghost."

REKA DOM.

"What is home, and where, but with the loving?"

FELICIA HEMANS.

At last Ida was allowed to go out. She was well wrapped up, and
escorted by Nurse in a short walk for the good of her health. It was
not very amusing, but the air was fresh and the change pleasant,
although the street did not prove quite that happy region it had
looked from the nursery windows. Moreover, however strong one may
fancy one has become indoors, the convalescent's first efforts out of
doors are apt to be as feeble as those of