this fourteen-year-old boy challenging another to a duel.

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Why, what a fire-eater he is!" he cried. "But you had cause, boy. This Bouquet is a sneak, and your teacher is a tyrant. But we will change it all; see now! I will seek out the principal. I will explain it all. He shall see it rightly, and you shall not be thus disgraced. No, sir! not if I, General Marbeuf, intrench myself alone with you behind what is left of your slushy snow fort yonder, and fight all Brienne school in your behalf -teachers and all. So cheer up, lad! We will make it right."

General Marbeuf did make it all right. Bouquet was called to account; the teacher who had so often made it unpleasant for Napoleon was sharply reprimanded; and the principal, having his attention drawn to the persistent persecution of this boy from Corsica, consented to his release from imprisonment, while sternly lecturing him on the sin of duelling.

-EUGENIE FOA.

revenge': a returning of evil for evil.-redress': a setting right of a wrong or injury.-incorrigible: one who will not be corrected.— Marbeuf: mär-bŭf'.-cli'max: highest point.-rep'rimanded: scolded, blamed.

THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE-TREE

Come, let us plant the apple-tree.
Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
Wide let its hollow bed be made;

There gentle lay the roots, and there
Sift the dark mould with kindly care.
And press it o'er them tenderly,
As, round the sleeping infant's feet,
We softly fold the cradle-sheet;
So plant we the apple-tree.

What plant we in this apple-tree? Buds, which the breath of summer days

Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;

Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,

Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest;

We plant, upon the sunny lea,

A shadow for the noontide hour,
A shelter from the summer shower,
When we plant the apple-tree.

What plant we in this apple-tree? Sweets for a hundred flowery springs To load the May-wind's restless wings, When, from the orchard-row, he pours Its fragrance through our open doors;

soil.

A world of blossoms for the bee,
Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
For the glad infant, sprigs of bloom
We plant with the apple-tree.

What plant we in this apple-tree?
Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
And redden in the August noon,
And drop, when gentle airs come by,
That fan the blue September sky,

While children come, with cries of glee,
And seek them where the fragrant grass
Betrays their bed to those who pass,
At the foot of the apple-tree.

-WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT (Abridged).

cleave: cut.-green'sward: turf, green with grass.-mould: earth,

THE BEAR THAT HAD A BANK ACCOUNT

PART I

You may not believe it, but the bear I am going to tell you about really had a bank account! He lived in the woods, as most bears do; but he had a reputation which extended over all Norway and more than half of England. Earls and baronets came every summer, with repeating-rifles and field-glasses and portable cooking-stoves, intent upon killing him. But Mr.

Bruin, whose only weapons were a pair of paws and a pair of jaws, both uncommonly good of their kind, always managed to get away unharmed; and that was sometimes more than the earls and the baronets did.

One summer the Crown Prince of Germany came to Norway. He also heard of the famous bear that no one could kill, and made up his mind that he was the man to kill it. He trudged for two days through bogs, and climbed through glens and ravines, before he came on the scent of a bear, and a bear's scent, you may know, is strong, and quite unmistakable.

Finally he discovered some tracks in the moss, like those of a barefooted man, or, I should rather say, perhaps, a man-footed bear. The Prince was just turning the corner of a projecting rock, when he saw a huge, shaggy beast standing on its hind legs, examining in a leisurely manner the inside of a hollow tree, while a swarm of bees were busily buzzing about its ears.

It was just hauling out a handful of honey, and was smiling with a horrible mirth, when His Royal Highness sent a bullet right into its breast, where its heart must have been, if it had one. But, instead of falling down flat, as it ought to have done, out of respect to the Prince, it coolly turned its back, and gave a disgusted nod over its shoulder as it trudged away through the underbrush.

The attendants went through the woods and beat the bushes in all directions, but Mr. Bruin was no more to be seen that afternoon. It was as if he had sunk into the earth; not a trace of him was to be found by either dogs or men.

From that time forth the rumor spread abroad that this Gausdale Bruin (for that was the name by which he became known) was enchanted. It was said that he shook off bullets as a duck does water; that he had the evil eye, and could bring misfortune to whomsoever he looked upon. The peasants dreaded to meet him, and ceased to hunt him. His size was described as something enormous, his teeth, his claws, and his eyes, as being frightful beyond any human idea.