in and warm them.

But he pulled out his mittens, saying, "I must get up slowly: that's the
way the boys do." So he raised himself on his hands and knees first,
planting one foot at a time firmly before trying to stand. But, as he
was straightening up his back, somehow his heels slipped up; and this
time it was his poor little head that rapped so smartly upon the
treacherous ice.

Taddy lay still a minute, not feeling quite so hopeful about the next
attempt; when he happened to see a little tree just a few steps off. So
he crept quickly over to it, feeling sure now of success. Catching hold
of it, he helped himself up to a firm stand, saying, "Now, I must put
one foot out at a time, so,--and then the other. Oh! I can do it now."

So he tried again. One beautiful stroke, then another, and over he went
again, flat on his nose! But this was not all. Such a crash as even his
little body could make was too much for the ice, which happened to be
rather thin around that friendly tree; and, by the time Taddy had picked
himself up, he was above his knees in water. There was a terrible ache
at his nose; and he put up his hand to warm it a minute, but was
frightened to find his mittens all spotted with blood. This was too much
for him. He sent forth a cry that would have made your heart ache.

Just then Jamie came back; and there he found poor Taddy standing in the
water, holding out one hand, and looking at the bloody mitten through
his tears, the other covering tightly his aching nose; while a big
purple bump was rapidly appearing on his forehead.

"Halloo! what's going on?" shouted Jamie. Taddy's story was very humble;
and kind-hearted Jamie carried him into the house, where his mother was
just inquiring for him.

"I left my little boy to learn another kind of lesson," she said. "But
perhaps the one he has taught himself will do as much good."

M. L.

THE OLD CLOCK.

[Illustration]

"[Illustration: T]ICK, tock! tick, tock!" That is what the old clock
said. And the boy sat at a table near by, and leaned his head upon his
hand, and put the end of the pen-holder in his mouth, instead of writing
his theme on the "Flight of Time."

"Tick, tock! tick, tock!" said again the old clock; and then there was a
little buzzing noise, and the old clock began to strike; and all at once
a little door over the dial-plate opened, and there stood a little bird
crying,