rmly fixed to the top of the chimney.

At last the work was ended. The workmen came down quickly, glad to be
safe on the ground once more.

When the next to the last man reached the ground, by mistake he pulled
the rope from the pulley. Then he looked back and saw another man
standing alone on the chimney.

"Oh! what have I done!" he cried. "Poor fellow, what will become of
him? He cannot get down! He will die!"

The workmen were so alarmed that they could think of no way to help
their comrade. They stood helpless, looking first at the coil of rope
at their feet and then at their friend high in the air.

"He will starve if he stays there, and he will be killed if he tries
to climb down," they said sadly.

Just then the wife of the man appeared. She did not cry, scold, or
fret. Instead, she said to herself, "What can I do to save him? There
must be some way."

Soon a bright idea came to her, and she shouted to her husband:

"John! John! Unravel your stocking! Begin at the toe!"

John understood at once. He took off the coarse yarn stocking that she
had knitted for him, cut off the toe, and began to unravel the yarn.

When he had pulled out a long piece, he tied the end around a small
piece of brick. This he very carefully let down to the ground.

How eagerly the men below seized upon it. They fastened the yarn to a
ball of twine which John's wife had fetched. Then they shouted:

"Pull up the yarn till you get the twine."

Soon John called to them:

"I have it."

They next fastened the twine to the heavy rope and shouted:

"Pull up the twine till you get the rope."

"All right," said John, and in a very few minutes he held the stout
rope in his hand. With its aid, he let himself safely down to the
ground. How they all cheered as his foot touched the earth!

Do you think he left the remnant of his stocking on the chimney-top?
No, indeed. He brought it down, buttoned under his coat. It was a
precious keepsake. He often showed it to his children, as he told them
the wonderful story of how his life had been saved by their mother.

_Pocahontas_

E. A. AND M. F. BLAISDELL

Pocahontas was a beautiful Indian maiden, the daughter of the great
chief, Powhatan, and she was so good and kind that she was loved by
all the tribe over which her father ruled.

She lived in the forests of Virginia, with the birds and squirrels for
her companions.

She was an Indian princess, but she learned to cook and