ntil it began to rot;
And his daughter Sarah took it up,
And put it in a pot.

'And it boiled, and it boiled,
As long as it was able;
And his daughter Mary took it up,
And put it on the table.

'Then Farmer Phinney and his wife,
When they sat down to dine,
They ate, and they ate,
And they thought that turnip fine.'"

"There, isn't that a nice story, mamma?"

Mamma, feeling a tremendous distance between that story and the last
one, concludes that it is time to give the boy his morning bath, and
kiss his little tongue into quiet for a few minutes.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

NETTIE'S VISIT.

It was July, and the great city was very hot. Day after day the fiery
sun rose and blazed away with all his might on the dusty pavements and
heated houses. All the people too who could were leaving the city.

But the poor were obliged to stay, no matter how the sun beat down
into their narrow streets and small stifling rooms. There had been no
rain for a long time; many people were sick and dying, and the world
looked very dark to some of them. Mrs. Holmes lived high up in the
topmost rooms of a tall block of buildings. Her rooms were small and
hot, for the sun shone into her windows and upon the roof all the long
day. She was a seamstress and a widow with one little daughter,
Nettie.

Mrs. Holmes was very sad and troubled, for Nettie had not been well
all the spring, and now she seemed like a little wilted flower; no
strength, nor appetite, though mamma denied herself everything that
she could to get nice little things to tempt her darling. The doctor
had said she must have change of air, must go into the country. He
might just as well have said she must go to Europe, for Mrs. Holmes
had no dear old home in the country waiting to welcome her; no uncles,
aunts and cousins, writing "When will you come?" So she sat through
the long afternoon and tried to sew as well as she could with the
heat, and the flies, and her sad thoughts.

Nettie was lying on the bed asleep, her little face as white as the
pillow.

"She is going to slip right away from me, and leave me alone," the
poor mother groaned to herself. "Oh, Father in heaven, help me!" she
cried. "Show me what to do for my dear little daughter." The help was
nearer than she thought.

"Mamma," said Nettie, sitting up very suddenly, "I had a nice dream; I
guess I was in the country, for there were trees a