shoe
dropped off. She put it on again in a great hurry, but, as she was
going across the hall, her father turned round.

"Why are you walking slipshod? no one must walk slipshod with me. Why,
Rosamond," said he, looking at her shoes with disgust, "I thought that
you were always neat; no, I cannot take you with me."

Rosamond colored and retired.

"Oh, mamma," said she as she took off her hat, "how I wish that I had
chosen the shoes! They would have been of so much more use to me than
that jar: however, I am sure, no, not quite sure, but I hope I shall
be wiser another time."

THE THREE CAKES

By ARMAND BERQUIN

"There was a little boy named Henry," said Mr Glassington "about your
age. His parents had but lately fixed him at a boarding-school.

"He was a special boy, forever at his book, and happened once to get
the highest place at exercises. His mother was told it. She could
nohow keep from dreaming of the pleasure; and when morning came, she
got up early, went to speak with the cook and said as follows:

"'Cook, you are to make a cake for Henry, who yesterday was very good
at school.'

"'With all my heart,' replied the cook, and set immediately about it.
It was as big as--let me see--as big as--as a hat when flapped. The
cook had stuffed it with nice almonds, large pistachio nuts, and
candied lemon-peel, and iced it over with a coat of sugar, so that it
was very smooth and a perfect white. The cake no sooner was come home
from baking than the cook put on her things, and carried it to school.

"When Henry first saw it, he jumped up and down like any Merry Andrew.
He was not so patient as to wait till they could let him have a knife,
but fell upon it tooth and nail. He ate and ate till school began, and
after school was over he ate again; at night, too, it was the same
thing till bedtime--nay, a little fellow that Henry had for a playmate
told me that he put the cake upon his bolster when he went to bed, and
waked and waked a dozen times, that he might take a bit. I cannot so
easily believe this last particular; but, then, it is very true, at
least, that on the morrow, when the day was hardly broke, he set about
his favorite business once again, continuing at it all the morning,
and by noon had eaten it up. The dinner-bell now rung; but Henry, as
one may fancy, had no stomach, and was vexed to see how heartily the
other children ate. It was, however, worse than this at five o'clock,
when school was