the tempest is rough and wild;
And you are no laddie strong and bold,
My poor little maiden child.

"But up aloft there's the lamp to feed,
Or its flame will die in the dark,
And the sailor lose in his utmost need
The light of our islet's ark."

"I'll go," said Gretchen, "a step at a time;
Why, mother, I'm twelve years old,
And steady, and never afraid to climb,
And I've learned to do as I'm told."

Then Gretchen up to the top of the tower,
Up the icy, smooth-worn stair,
Went slowly and surely that very hour,
The sleet in her eyes and hair.

She fed the lamp, and she trimmed it well,
And its clear light glowed afar,
To warn of reefs, and of rocks to tell,
This mariner's guiding star.

And once again when the world awoke
In the dawn of a bright new day,
There was joy in the hearts of the fisher folks
Along the stormy bay.

When the little boats came sailing in
All safe and sound to the land,
_To the haven the light had helped them win,
By the aid of a child's brave hand._

The Family Mail-bag.

BY MARY JOANNA PORTER.

The family mail-bag was made of black and white straw arranged in
checks. It was flat and nearly square, was lined with gray linen and
fastened at the top with narrow black ribbon. It had two long handles,
finely made of straw, and these handles Luella and Francis were
accustomed to grasp when, twice a day regularly, at half-past eight in
the morning and at half-past three in the afternoon, they went for the
family mail.

Their instructions were always to go back and forth to the post-office
without stopping, always to tie the bag securely after putting the mail
inside, and never to open it after it was thus fastened. They were to
take turns in carrying the bag, and upon returning to their home were
always to take it at once to the study of their father, Rev. Mr.
Robinson.

So important a personage as a public mail-carrier had never been seen in
the small village in which they lived. In his absence the two children
performed their service well. At least they always did excepting on one
unfortunate day, and that is the day of which our story is to tell.

The children went to the office as usual, and were quite delighted at
finding there a registered letter addressed to "Luella and Francis
Robinson." Luella felt very proud when the postmaster asked h