The palm, the lily, and the spear,
The symbols that of yore
St. Filomena bore.

THE LITTLE HATCHET STORY.

WITH OCCASIONAL QUESTIONS BY A FIVE-YEAR-OLD HEARER.

BY BURDETTE.

Mrs. Caruthers had left her infant prodigy, Clarence, in our care for
a little while that she might not be distracted by his innocent
prattle while selecting the material for a new gown.

He was a bright, intelligent boy, of five summers, with a commendable
thirst for knowledge, and a praiseworthy desire to understand what
was said to him.

We had described many deep and mysterious things to him, and to
escape the possibility of still more puzzling questions, offered to
tell him a story--_the_ story--the story of George Washington and his
little hatchet. After a few necessary preliminaries we proceeded.

"Well, one day, George's father--"

"George who?" asked Clarence.

"George Washington. He was a little boy, then, just like you. One day
his father--"

"Whose father?" demanded Clarence, with an encouraging expression of
interest.

"George Washington's; this great man we are telling you of. One day
George Washington's father gave him a little hatchet for a--"

"Gave who a little hatchet?" the dear child interrupted with a gleam
of bewitching intelligence. Most men would have got mad, or betrayed
signs of impatience, but we didn't. We know how to talk to children.
So we went on.

"George Washington."

"Who gave him the little hatchet?"

"His father. And his father--"

"Whose father?"

"George Washington's."

"Oh!"

"Yes, George Washington's. And his father told him--"

"Told who?"

"Told George."

"Oh, yes, George."

And we went on, just as patient and as pleasant as you could imagine.
We took up the story right where the boy interrupted, for we could
see he was just crazy to hear the end of it. We said:

"And he was told--"

"George told him?" queried Clarence.

"No, his father told George--"

"Oh!"

"Yes, told him he must be careful with the hatchet--"

"Who must be careful?"

"George must."

"Oh!"

"Yes, must be careful with his hatchet--"

"What hatchet?"

"Why, George's."

"Oh!"

"Careful with the hatchet, and not cut himself with it, or drop it in
the cistern, or leave it out of doors all night. So George went
around cutting everything he could reach with his hatchet. At last he
came to a splendid apple tree, his father's favourite apple tree, and
cut it do