climbed up on a chair and looked out of the window, and the room was right at the top of ever so many stairs. She seemed to recall, too, that the room was very bare and empty, and that she had often been hungry and thirsty and cold there, and that her mother had been there, lying, on a bed and looking, oh! so pale and thin, and had told her that she was going away to leave her, but that they should meet again in a bright, beautiful country. And she remembered too, and as she remembered it the tears came into two little eyes and she sobbed piteously, she remembered that one day her mother's face looked whiter, much whiter, than before, and that she lay quite still and made no answer when the little girl called to her. And then some rough woman had told the child that her mother was dead, and that the room was wanted for some one else, and she must go.

And so she had put on a little threadbare jacket and a little torn hat, through many holes in which her golden hair peeped out, and had gone away all alone-it might have been yesterday, to-day, she knew not when-out into the streets of that great big city in that great big world.

It was a winter's evening, that once upon a time, and the snow was falling fast, and it was very cold. The little child was thinly clad (unlike a proper fairy-tale child), and had had no food for a long time,-years, it seemed to her.

As her little steps wandered on, she passed a great many shops, and saw heaps and heaps of warm clothing and food inside great windows, lighted up with ever so many bright lights; and she wondered how it was that she was so cold and hungry, and why some one did not come out of one of the big shops and give her clothing and food; and she thought how strange it was that all those things should be inside the big windows that she could just look into when she stood on tip-toe, while she was standing there, such a very tiny girl and wanting ever so little of what she saw.

The little child looked wistfully into the big bright windows one after another, but she shook and shivered so that she ran on at last although she felt very strange and heavy and giddy, and she ran and ran until she found that she had passed away from the bright lights and was in a dark road in which the snow was lying much more thickly, and looking much whiter, than in the streets through which she had gone.

The little girl's limbs would carry her no farther, and she half sank down in the snow; but she saw suddenly, looming out in the dark by the wayside, a large, wooden shed, the door of which was standing wide open, and, turning her fast-failing steps to it, she crept timidly inside. It was quite dark there, and she lay down on the floor with her little head pillowed against a piece of wood.

Wondering drowsily why it was that she had ceased to be hungry or cold, and why her limbs seemed as if they had no feeling at all, the child lay there, and gradually her eyes closed.

Suddenly she became conscious of a dazzling light; and looking up she saw a beautiful fairy standing by her side, with white rustling wings, and a halo of light shining all round her. She was looking down on the child with a look of sweet compassion on her face.

"Little one," said the fairy in a soothing, gentle voice, and as she spoke she bent over the child and stroked the small face, "welcome into fairyland."

The child looked round her in speechless wonder, and behold! the dark wooden shed had vanished and she was lying on a grassy bank, surrounded by lovely flowers of all colors, and the sun was shining above, and birds were singing all about her, and near her troops of children all dressed in dazzling white were at play, making the air ring with joyous peals of laughter that seemed just to chime in with the singing of the birds; and fairies, like the one standing by her, were watching over the children as they played.

She was so filled with wonder that she answered not the fairy, and again the sweet voice said:

"Little one, welcome into fairyland."

"Am I in fairyland?" answered the child this time. "They tock mother away from me, and said she was dead, and told me to go, and I was very cold and hungry, and I ran ever so far, and I thought I was lying down in a great dark place. And oh! don't send me away; let me stay here, please, please let me stay here, and not go into the snow again. I am such a little thing to be all alone in the great big streets, and I will be so good if I may stay."

The tears started into the child's eyes as she pleaded her cause, and the fairy stooped down and kissed them away.

"Yes, my child, you shall stay with us in fairyland, and never go into the great streets again."

"Oh! thank you," said the child, and she threw her arms around the still bending fairy, and kissed her again and again.

"Just now," the little girl said presently, "I was, oh! so cold and hungry and tired, and now I feel so peaceful and rested, and as if I could never be cold and hungry again. Why is it?"

"There is neither hunger nor cold here, my little one. The sun is always shining as you see it now, the birds are ever singing as you hear them now, the flowers never fade, and the leaves never fall, and those children now at play are ever bright and happy. Many little travelers like you have found their way into our bright land through paths of sorrow and suffering; but see them now how joyous they are."

The fairy pointed to the group of children, and the little girl followed the movement with her eyes. She looked in silence for a minute, and then she spoke again: "You are so good and kind, and I seem to ask so many things, but oh! forgive me for one question more. The children that I see, have their mothers been taken

from them as mine was taken from me? and will they ever be with them again?"

"My darling," answered the fairy, with infinite tenderness in her voice," they have already seen their mothers again, and you will see your own lost mother. Look at me-look into my face-you knew me not at first, but you know me now, oh! you know me now, my little one." The child looked into the fairy's face for an instantthe word “Mother!" burst from her lips, and the two were folded in each other's arms.

Next day, when workmen came into the shed,
They found a child there, lying cold and dead.
And on the little upturned face they saw
A smile so bright and joyous that in awe
They stood uncovered. But the mortal clay
Alone was there-the soul had winged its way.

"WE ALL LIKE SHEEP."

"We all like sheep," the tenors shrill
Begin, and then the church is still.
While back and forth across the aisle
Is seen to pass the "catching" smile.
"We all like sheep," the altos moan
In low, and rich, and mellow tone,
While broader grows the merry grin
And nose gets farther off from chin.
"We all like sheep," sopranos sing
Till all the echoes wake and ring;
The young folks titter, and the rest
Suppress the laugh in bursting chest.
"We all like sheep," the bassos growl
The titter grows into a howl,
And e'en the deacon's face is graced
With wonder at the singer's taste.

"We all like sheep," runs the refrain,

And then, to make their meaning plain,

The singers altogether say,

"We all like sheep have gone astray."

ORTHOGRAPHY.-WADE WHIPPLE.

Marier! Here's a letter kum

From my ol' friend Kris Bar; P'raps yew think it soun's more plum To call 'im Kristofer.

Heze bort a farm out West, an' here
He fills this letter chok

With nuze ov what he raised last year,
An' tidin's 'bout his stock.

But what gits me in this, ol' gal,

Iz how the critter spells.

Kris allers wus eriginal,

But sizzers! How it tells

Agin a kollege chap ter reed

The way he duz upset

The parts o' speche! it puts ter seed
My spellin' ettyket.

I aint at spellin' wat the Frentch
'U'd kall ofay, but, Sis,

I kalkerlate I never rentch
The alferbet like this-

Just lissen-here heze got a wurd
'Bout what heze had tew pay

For ginny-hens, an' spells the burd "G-u-i-n-e-a!"

Git out! That burd'd yawp frum now
Till kingdom kum ter heer

Its name spelt thataway; but how
Duz this style fit yer ear?

Hiz gote is spelt "g-o-a-t,"

Hiz kow with "c," I swar,

An' heffer-wall, that jist gits me-
"H-e-i-f-e-r."

Now aint thet fer a kollege man
The wust yew ever heer?
But dog my cats! I haint began
Ter fish out all ther kweer,
Dad-fetched, all-fired orthogerfy
Thet's here-Marier, say!

Wot sort of peekok's spelt with P-
"E-a-c-o-c-k?"