servant." The mistress, still willing to gratify the desires of her little spoon, carried her again to the silversmith.

"Good man," she said to him, "make this silver'd spoon as heavy as a real silver one."

"To do that," said the silversmith, "it will bē necessary to put a piece of lead here in the handle."

Ah," thought the poor spoon, "then must hē bōre straight into my heart"-for the heart of a wooden spoon âlways lies in the handle; that is to say, when wooden spoons have heärts-"but one must bear all for honor. Yes, he may even put a bit of lead in my heart, if he only makes me so that I shall pass for a real heavy silver spoon." So the silversmith bōred deep into her heart, and fill'd it up with melted lead, which soon härden'd within it. But she suffer'd âll for honor's sake. Then she was silver'd ōver again, and brought back to the plate basket. Now, the servant came, and took her up with the rest of the spoons, and saw and felt no difference; so she was placed with the rest on the great dinner-tāble, past for a real, beautiful silver spoon, and would have been as happy as possible, if shē had not got a lump of lead in her heart.

F

That lump of lead caused a great heaviness there, and made her feel not quite happy in the midst of her honors. Sō time went on, and the wooden spoon continued to pass for a silver one, sō well was shē silver'd, and sō heavy had she been made. But the meatmother died. At that, the silver'd spoon, instead of sorrowing, as she once would have done, âlmōst rejoiced; for every time shē had lain shining on the great table, she had recollected that the meat-mother was the only person who knew that she really was nothing more than a simple wooden spoon; and sō if her mistress took another spoon instead of her, she became quite jealous, and said to herself: "That is because she knows all about mē; shē knōwṣ I am a wooden spoon, silver'd outside, and with a lump of lead within me." But when the mistress was dead, she said to herself: "Now I am free, and can enjoy myself perfectly; for no one will ever know now that I am not quite what I seem." The goods, however, were now to be sōld. The family silver was bought by a gōldsmith, who prepared to melt it up, in order to work it anew. The unhappy wooden spoon was bought with the rest; she saw the furnace ready, and heard with dismay that they should âll be cast therein. She

was dreadfully alärm'd, exclaim'd against the cruelty practised towards the friendless orphans who had sō lately lost their good protectress, and began to appeal to her companions in rank and misfortune, who lay calmly within sight of the furnace. "They will burn us up!" shē cried. 66 They will turn us to ashes! How quietly you take such inhuman conduct!"

"O no!" said an old silver spoon and fork, who lay composedly side by side-they had been comrades from youth these two, and had already gone through the furnace, I know not how often-"O no! they will do us nō härm. They may willingly melt us: the furnace will do us good rather than härm, and we shall soon appear in a more fashionable and handsome form."

The silver'd wooden spoon listen'd, but was not comforted. It did not comfort her to find that silver would not burn, shē knew that wood must do sō.

"Ah," sigh'd the silly spoon, "I see it is not by brightness only, nor only by weight, that real silver is known!" The silver was cast into the furnace; but when the goldsmith came and took her up, she cried in great excitement, and with a trembling voice: "Dear mäster, I ċertainly am a silver spoon; that is seen bōth by

my appearance and weight; but then I am not of the same sort of silver as the other spoons;

I am of a finer sort, which cannot bear fire, but flies away in smōke.”

"Indeed! what are you then? Perhaps

tin ?”

"Tin! can the dear mäster think so meanly of me ?"

Perhaps even lead?"

"Lead! äh, the mäster can easily see if I am of lead."

Well, that will I do," said the mäster, and began to bend the handle, and snap it went in two, for wood will not bear bending like silver, any more than it will bear melting. The wooden handle brōke in two, and out fell the lump of lead. "So!" cried the mäster, only a common wooden spoon silver'd ōver!"

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spoon.

Yes," cried the poor spoon, which, sō soon as the lead fell from her heart, grew qüite light and happy-"Yes, I am only a common wooden Take away the silvering, dear mäster; cause me to be mended, and set me in the kitchen again, to serve out meal-porridge for the rest of my life. Now, I know how stupid it waș for a wooden spoon to want to pass for a silver one!" -A Tale from the Swedish.

THE BRAMBLE'S STORY.

A merry little girl was one day running along as fast as she could with a basket of flowers in her hand. All at once something seized her frock so roughly (pr. ruffly) behind that she nearly fell down. She pull'd at her skirt, and püll'd again, but still it was fast; sō she lookt round to see what it could bē; and a great Bramble close by the path, had caught fast hold of the tuck of her frock, and wouldn't let it gō.

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Are you in a hurry?" said the Bramble. 'I wish you would sit down a bit bỹ mē; it's very pleasant on the grass."

Please leave loose of my frock," said the child, "or you'll tear the tuck. There, that will do, thank you;" and shē smooth'd her frock under her, and sat down by the Bramble with her basket in her lap.

"But you must tell me a stōry, if I am to stay," said the little girl, as she began to twine her flowers into a gärland; and the Bramble, after a flourish of her long ärm, began,—

"When I am at my füll height, I can see ōver that wâll before us, and look at the lake beyond, with its quiet bays and pretty (pr. pritty) pebbly beach."