so small you would see that they look like cut diamonds, having a great number of sides.

"And then, of course, you have often noticed how bright their tiny wings are, sometimes showing all the rainbow colors, as they dance about in the sunshine, or crawl slowly up and down the window-pane. But I do not believe you know what a funny way they have of eating, sucking up their food through a tube like a trunk, and when it is too hard making it soft by a liquid out of their own mouths. Altogether, you see, I have made them appear quite wonderful, after all, and you must try to think of what I have told you sometimes when a fly tickles and worries you, and refuses to be brushed off.

"Sometimes a yellow-banded, slender-waisted wasp came prying in where he certainly was n't wanted, and I could not help fancying that the spiders and the flies feared and disliked him as I did, for they seemed to keep out of his way. However, he never did any harm really, because we left him alone, and did not tease and anger him. Many creatures are perfectly harmless when not provoked, that become dangerous when worried and ill-treated; so the wasp is not the only one who tries to revenge himself.

"But now the air began to grow chilly, and one by one my summer friends dropped off and deserted me; the bees and the gnats had been gone a long time, and the lady-bird and the aphides had followed them soon after; even the wasps and flies were cold and torpid. Bright butterflies no longer fluttered in and out, and the bats that had sometimes startled us at twilight showed themselves no more. The song of the katydids grew faint, and no whippoorwill was ever heard in the woods; my window was always shut now, and the rose-bush was bare; yet I was not alone. As soon as one little companion was gone, another took its place; and this time it was a black cricket, with his glossy shell and his cheerful chirp, keeping me company in the house because it was too cold for him outside. He was very cunning, eating the sugar and cake I gave him, and never trying to leave me, except to make a journey to the fireplace and back once in a while.

"One day, too, a poor ant came in sight on the window-sill, trying to carry off a crumb of cake four times as large as herself; but she moved very slowly, and I am afraid felt very cold, and when she disappeared I knew that summer was gone, for nobody came to take her place.

"Then Jack Frost covered my window all over with the loveliest lacework, hardly leaving me room to look out, and almost before his back was turned, the sun came out and spoiled it all, leaving no trace. And the wind roared and howled around me as I sat there, and the rain and snow threw themselves against the glass as if they envied me; but still the little black cricket and I kept our comfortable place.

"Only now there was a bright fire in the room, and we looked at that, instead of watching the leafless trees and the drifted snow. But you don't know how pleasant it was, even thus, especially at Christmas-time, when I sat there looking for pictures in the fire, or perhaps telling stories, just as I am doing now, to a party of merry boys and girls. Indeed, I think I remem

ber certain little ones going to sleep on that very lounge, after a good Christmas dinner, and plenty of games.

"And now, just as I have come to the end of my long story, I hear mamma calling, 'Frank, Nettie, Grace, it is very late, quite time you were all in bed'; and as I look at you I see that the Sandman is really making his rounds, for three pairs of bright eyes are half shut already."

C. S. N.

IN THE OLD TIME.

ABOVE the sunset hills now the vanquished clouds are breaking,

The light trails its jewels along the dusky lane;

And, a bird at my window the old song awaking,
Adown the meadow-path the well-known way I'm taking,
And I dream and I dream I am but a child again.

I know where the blossoms of the golden bell are brightest;
I know where the fern sips the brooklet's falling spray;
I know of a bank where daisies bloom the whitest,
And a nook in the beeches where shadows fall the lightest,
And cooling breezes flicker on a sultry summer day.

It was there by the brookside we built a bower of rushes,
In the shade of the beeches in that old happy time;
We wrought the rustic roof where the purple harebell blushes,
And Ben trimmed it o'er with the fir-tree's sombre brushes,

While our merry voices blended with the water's rippling chime.

How sweet on the air came the breath of new-mown clover!
How soft was the whisper of the wind in the tree!
There were Maude's golden curls, with the sunlight gilded over,
There was merry little Carl, and brave Ben, the rover;

Ah, me! Ben is sleeping now beneath the Southern sea!

And fair little Maude in a stately ship is sailing,

Is sailing and sailing to a far foreign shore ;

And Carl is at rest where the Northern winds are wailing,

Where the Northern sea is moaning, and the Northern lights are paling, And the wild waves thunder round his bed forevermore!

But the song of the bird in the sunlight's quiet beaming,
The sound in the tree-top of the wind's low refrain,

And the voice of the river with its white waves silver gleaming,
Draw me back through the years to our youth-time's happy dreaming,
To the dear olden time that can never come again!

F. M. J.

IN

IN the June number of "Our Young Folks" (1871) was an account of Mrs. Jarley's Waxworks. We have had them, too, and I think they are very entertaining, when gotten up in a funny way; but it reminded me of the real wax-figures, the famous ones of Madame Tussaud, in London, which I visited last October.

We had just arrived that evening from Folkestone, having crossed the Channel in a pouring rain. We were eating some roast-beef, dear to English hearts, in the coffee-room of the Charing Cross (and were n't we tired and hungry, though!) when uncle proposed that, as our stay in London would be short, we should economize our time, and begin by going at once to Madame Tussaud's.

As

Therefore in a few minutes, with our dinner fairly sticking in our throats, we were rattling through the dark stony streets of Old London, and in about an hour were landed, or rather dumped, before a dimly lighted doorway in a dark side street. we were ascending the stairs I heard the bald-headed old gentleman who sold the tickets advise another to go up and be "waxinated," as the small-pox was about. He laughed heartily at his own joke, if it was his own, for I should scarcely have given him credit for so much wit.

We entered a long gallery brilliantly lighted with crystal-decorated chandeliers, and there we were surrounded by the famous people of history. At first it bewildered me, the blinding lights, the gay dresses, the crowds passing and repassing before me, and the enchanting music, for a full orchestra is hired every evening; and, even after the first whirl of excitement, I could scarcely tell which were real human beings and which were merely painted wax, "dumb pageants in a show."

In a side room adjoining the long gallery lies the great Duke of Wellington in state. An awful feeling came over me, as if I were in the presence of the dead, as I looked upon that noble form, lying still and cold, with all the "pride of heraldry and pomp of power" around him, insensible alike to both. As he lay there on his tented couch of velvet and gold, it seemed as if that must be the "Great Duke," and not a waxen image only, that never lived nor spoke. Among the numerous portraits which adorn the walls is a very fine one of the duke visiting the relics of Napoleon, which are shown in another room.

There are three rooms besides the Shrine of Wellington and the "Chamber of Horrors," which my uncle preferred that we should not enter. The first room is the "Large Room." At the entrance is Honqua, the great Chinese tea-merchant, distinguished for the cheerfulness of his disposition, but placed among these worthies, I suppose, for the sake of his peculiar costume. Then there is George Washington, familiar at once to the eyes of his admiring countrymen. Near by is a display of infant royalty, the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal in a cradle.