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saving lost travellers, or supporting blind beggars in the crowded streets; but he was too kind to laugh at their distress. He told them it was always intended that there should be different kinds of dogs. "The mastiff for the yard, and the spaniel for the drawingroom," said he. "You must always be lapdogs; but there are two ways of being a lapdog—ÿoû may bē cross-tempered and greedy, noisy and lazy, the plāgueș of a whōle househōld; or ÿoû may bē līvely and gentle and pleasant companions to your mistress and the children."

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Oh, yes," said Fairy, “we can do something, I knōw; wē may be good when we're wâshed; we may bē clean when we eat; we may leave off bärking at the cat and frightening the canary; wē may keep away from particular ōld ladies and timid children Don't you think we may do a good deal if we only think about it, Jack?"

"What's that?" cried Fairy, stärting up; and they saw the little frilled children peeping over the gate— they had come to look for their strayed pets, and were delighted to find them safe.

Jack scampered round them, and pretended to catch them by the frocks and keep them; but they soon found he was not angry, sō they took their pets in their arms, and carried them away ōver the fields to the house again.

And Jack heard them scolding and kissing them all the way as they went.

25.-SIR GAMMER VANS.

AN OLD IRISH STORY.

Last Sunday morning, at six o'clock in the evening, as I was sailing over the tops of the mountains in my little boat, I met two men on horseback, riding on one māre, sō I asked them, "Could they tell mē whether the little old woman was dead yet, who was hanged last Saturday week for drowning herself in a show-er of feathers?" They said they could not positively inform me, but if I went to Siri Gammer Vans he could tell me âll about it. "But: how am I to know the house?" said I. "Hō 'tis easy enough," said they, "for it's a brick house, built entirely of flints, standing alone by itself in the middle of sixty or seventy others just like it." "Oh, nothing in the world is easier," said I. "Nothing can be eaṣiër," said they. So I went on my way. Now this Sîr Gammer Vans was a giant, and bottle maker. And as all giants, who are bottle-makers, usually pop out of a little thumb bottle from behind the door, sō did Sîr Gammer Vans. "How d'ÿe do?" says hē. he. "Very well, I thank yoû," says I. "Have some breakfast with me?" "With all my heart," says I. Sō hē gāve mē a slice of beer, and a cup of cold veal; and there was a little dog under the table, that picked up all the crumbs. "Hang him," says I. "No, don't hang him," says he; "for he killed a hare yesterday. And if yoû dōn't believe mē, I'll shōw ÿoû the hare alīve in a basket." Sō

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hē took me into his gärden to show me the curiosities. In one corner there was a fox hatching eagle's eggs; in another there was an iron apple-tree, entirely covered with pears and lead; in the thîrd there was the hāre which the dog killed yesterday alive in the basket; and in the fourth there were twenty-four hipper-switches threshing tobacco, and at the sight of me they threshed so härd that they drove the plug through the wâll, and through a little dog that was passing by on the other side. I, hearing the dog howl, jumped over the wâll; and turned it aș neatly inside out as possible, when it ran away as if it had not an hour to live. Then he took mē into the pärk to show me his deer; and I remembered that I had a warrant in my pocket to shoot venison for his majesty's dinner. So I set fire to my bow, poised my arrow, and shot amongst them. I brōke seventeen ribs on one side, and twenty-one and a hälf on the other; but mỹ arrow past clean through without ever touching it; and the worst was, I lost my arrow. However, I found it again in the hollow of a tree. I felt it; it felt clammy. I smelt it; it smelt honey. "Oh, hō!" said I, "here's a bee's nest," when out sprung a covey of pärtridges. I shot at them; some say I killed eighteen; but I am sūre I killed thîrty-six, besides a dead salmon which was flying over the bridge, of which I made the best apple pie I ever tasted.

26. THE OLD NORSE HEROES.

In the beginning of ages there lived a cow whose breath was sweet and milk bitter. She was called Audhumla (därkness) and she lived alōne on a frosty plain where was nothing but snōw and ice. Fär to the north was night; to the south, day; but there, only a cold grey twilight reigned. By and by a giant came and drank the cow's milk.

After a while the cow, looking round for food, saw a few grains of sâlt that were sprinkled over thē īċe, and she licked them and breathed with her sweet breath; and then long golden locks rose out of the

ice.

The giant frowned, but Audhumla licked the pure sâlt again, and the head of a man mōre handsome than could be described, with a wonderful light in its clear blue eyes, rose out of the ice. The giant frowned still mōre, but the cow licked a third time, and an active man arōṣe—a hērō majestic in strength and marvellous in beauty.

Now, the giant vowed he would not cease fighting 'till he or the hērō should lie dead, and he kept his vow, for the hero lay dead under his crûël blows. Afterward, as the hero's sons grew up, the giant and his brood fought against them âlsō, and nearly conquered them many times.

But there was one of the sons câlled ODIN, the same whose day is our fourth-Odin's, or Wōden's, or Wednes-day; and he had great strength and

wisdom; and at last hē slew thē ōld giant, whoṣe blood welled forth in such a mighty torrent that âll the hideous giants were drowned except one who ran away panting and afraid.

Then Odin câlled to his sons and kin-fōlk, “Wē cannot stay longer here, where is nō ēvil to fight against;" and they said, "It is well spoken, Odin; we follow you."

"Southwârd," answered Odin, "heat lies; northwârd, night. From the dim east the sun begins his journey westward hōme."

"Westward hōme!" shouted they âll; and westwârd they went.

Odin rode in the midst of them. On his right rōde Thor, Odin's strong, wârlike, eldest son, whose day is our fifth, or Thurs-day; on his left, Bâldur, the most beautifül of his children; after him, Tyr the Brave; Vidär the Silent; Hōdur, who, alas! was born blind; Hermod, the Flying Word; and many mōre lords and heroes; and then, in a shell chariot, Frigga, wife of Odin, with âll her daughters, friends, and tirewomen.

At the twelfth new moon they pitched their tents on a range of hills near an inland sea. The greater pärt of one night they were disturbed by mysterious whisperings that crept up the mountain side; but Tyr, who got up a dozen times and ran furiously about among the gorse and bushes, could see nō one. Odin lay awake, and in the morning a terrific hurricane swept about the bases of the hills,

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