ouse,"
he said; "there's a begonia for you."

"Is there? I thought I had all my presents."

She went racing to the greenhouse, and came back with a disappointed
face. "Why do you cheat me, Tom? This is not the first of April."

"Come and see." He led her into the greenhouse to the pink begonia's
grave.

They both stooped down to the corner of the earthen floor near the hot
pipes.

There was a dark red folded leaf growing above the earth.

"Oh, Tom! it is my own dear old plant."

"Yes--it is growing up again for another summer," he said. "I found it
a week ago; but I kept it for a birthday surprise."

"Tom," said Ethel, seizing his arm in her delight, "put my poetry in
your pocket, and let us go and ask mother if we should put it in a pot."

"What? put the poetry in a pot? Whatever for?"

"Oh! no, I didn't mean that at all--I mean----"

"Never mind--here go the verses, though they've served their turn."

So the pink plant went into a pot again, and grew more beautiful than
ever; and the only poetry Ethel ever made went into Tom's pocket.

STORIES TOLD IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

_By_ EDWIN HODDER ("OLD MERRY").

VI.--THE MONUMENTS.

As we walk round the building once more, I shall not attempt even to
name the greater number of the Monuments, but confine myself to telling
you something about the more remarkable ones. The earliest monuments
were really the tombs of persons buried here; many of the modern ones
simply commemorate illustrious men and women buried elsewhere.

We will first make the round of the chapels, and begin with that of St.
Benedict, where once an indulgence of two years and forty days could be
obtained by hearing mass at the altar. But the altar has gone, and in
its place rises the stately tomb of Frances Howard, Countess of
Hertford, whose effigy lies where once stood the candlesticks and sacred
host. Close by is the tomb of Archbishop Langham, who was buried here in
1376, with his head towards the altar, little dreaming that that altar
would ever be displaced to make room for the tomb of a heretic lady.

Through an ancient oaken screen we enter the adjacent Chapel of St.
Edmund. Here is the once beautiful tomb of William de Valence, Earl of
Pembroke, and half-brother to Henry III. Some of the monuments in this
chapel are of great interest as examples of ancient art, but there is
not much to say about their occupants. Frances Hokes, who died in 1622,
is represented in Greek cos