down to the kitchen to see what was the matter.

The cook heard the old goblin coming, and looked about her in great fright to find some place to hide Blunder.

"Quick!" she cried, "if my master catches you, he will have you in a pie. In the next room stands a pair of shoes. Jump into them, and they will take you up the chimney."

Off ran Blunder. He burst open the door, and ran wildly around the room. The shoes stood in one corner

of the room; but of course he could not find them, because he had not learned to use his eyes. "I cannot find them! Oh, I cannot find them! sobbed little Blunder, running back to the cook.

"Run into the closet," said the cook. Blunder made a dash at the window. know where the closet is!" he called out.

"I don't

thump! That was the goblin halfway

Thump! thump!

down the stairs.

"There is a cloak hanging on that peg which will Get into that, and he will never

make you invisible.

see you," cried the cook.

Blunder could not see the cloak any more than he could see the shoes and the closet. And no doubt the goblin would have found him crying out, "I can't find it," but just as the door opened Blunder's foot caught

in the cloak, and he tumbled down. The cloak fell over him, and there he lay, hardly daring to breathe.

"What was all that noise about?" roared the goblin, as he came into the kitchen. He looked all around,

but as he could see nothing wrong, he went grumbling upstairs again. Then the cook gave Blunder the shoes, and they carried him up the chimney and back to the meadow. Blunder was safe enough now, but very cross. He was hungry, and it was dark, and he did not know the way home; and seeing an old stile, he climbed up and sat down on the top of it, for he was too tired to stir.

Just then along came the South Wind, with his pockets full of showers. And as he happened to be going Blunder's way, he picked the boy up and took him home. Blunder was glad enough to be going home, but he would have liked it better if the South Wind had not laughed all the way. What would you think if you were walking along the road with a fat old gentleman, who went chuckling to himself and slapping his knees and poking himself till he was purple in the face, and then burst out in a great roar of laughter!

"What are you laughing at? asked Blunder at last. "I am laughing at two things that I saw in my travels," answered the Wind. "One was a hen that

starved to death sitting on an empty peck measure that stood in front of a bushel of grain, and the other was a little boy who sat on the top of the Wishing Gate and came home because he could not find it."

"What? What's that?" cried Blunder. cried Blunder. But just then he found himself at home. There sat his fairy godmother by the fire. Everybody else cried: "What luck did you have? Did you find the Wishing Gate?" But his fairy godmother sat still and said nothing.

"I don't know where it is," answered Blunder. "I couldn't find it." And then he told the story of his troubles.

Poor boy!" said his mother, kissing him, while his sister ran to bring him some bread and milk. “Yes, that is all very fine," cried his godmother, "but now hear my story. There was once a little boy who thought he must go to the Wishing Gate, and his fairy godmother showed him the road as far as the turn, and told him to ask the first owl that he met what to do then.

"But this little boy seldom used his eyes. So he passed the first owl and waked up the wrong owl.

owl. He passed the water-fairy, and found only a frog. He sat down under the pine tree, and never saw the crow. He passed the Dream Man, and ran after Jack-o'-lantern.

He tumbled down the goblin's chimney and couldn't find the shoes, or the closet, or the cloak. And so he sat on the top of the Wishing Gate till the South Wind brought him home, and he never knew that it was the Wishing Gate.

"Ugh! Bah!" cried the fairy godmother, and away she went up the chimney in such deep disgust that she did not even stop for her mouse-skin cloak.

A CHILD TO A ROSE.

White Rose, please talk to me!
I don't know what to do.
Why do you say no word to me
Who say so much to you ?
I'm bringing you a little rain,
And I shall feel so proud

If, when you feel it on your face,
You take me for a cloud.

Here I come so softly

You cannot hear me walking;

If I take you by surprise

I may catch you talking.

Do you ever go to sleep?
Once I woke by night,

And looked out of the window:

And there you stood moon-white,