a summer-set,
new hat and all!

I wore it to meeting the next Sunday, with my new blue cambric; and I
tell you what it is--it's enough sight easier to be good in an old hat
than it is in a new one! I tried not to feel stuck-up, and I kept saying
to myself: "Kitty Hazel, you're the same girl that sat here last Sunday,
with an old Leghorn on. _You_ aint any different!"

But it wasn't much use; for whenever I'd raise my eyes there was Phil
Gillis smiling at me from the judge's pew, and opposite were Dave and
Aggie Stebbins, staring as though they had never seen the like of me
before, and every now and then old Deacon Pettengil, who sits in front
of us, would turn and peer at me through his green spectacles so funny
that once I nearly giggled.

This all happened last summer, but my hat is as pretty now as it ever
was. Ma says she should have supposed the blue would have faded some by
this time--blue is such a poor color to wear; but it hasn't a bit. When
it does, I shall take it off, and have it for a sash for Rachel
Tryphena, and the hat will be 'most as nice as it is now.

KITTY HAZEL.

N.B.--I asked Polly how she thought of the umbrella. She said that when
she was visiting her sister, that works for a dress-maker in Boston, she
saw a picture of an old lady who was chased by a mad bull, and just as
the bull was coming at her like sixty, the old lady turned and opened
her umbrella square in his face. Polly said she always thought it was so
cute of the old lady, and had meant to do the same when a mad bull
chased _her_, if she had an umbrella with her. She said it all popped
into her head when she saw the horses.

THE STORK AND THE CRANE: A FABLE.

BY HOWARD PYLE.

A Stork and a Crane once frequented the same marsh. The Stork was a
quiet, dignified individual, with a philosophical countenance. One would
never have thought, from his deeply reflective look, of the number of
frogs and pollywogs, eels and small fish, that had disappeared in his
meditative mouth. For the Stork was like many another philosopher, and
in spite of his supernaturally wise external appearance, inside he was
just as selfish, and just as voracious, as all the rest of his kind.

Although he never mentioned the subject, he was secretly very proud to
recall the former grandeur of his ancestors, one of whom, in old Greek
days, had been a famous king over the frogs, eels, and snakes, in a
Spartan marsh.

The Crane was a lively little fel