REVIEW.

Who is Jane Barlow?

Name five of the characters which appear in "The Field of the Frightful Beasts."

What caused the little boy to name the place beyond the high stone wall "The Field of the Frightful Beasts"? Tell something about Mrs. Kavanagh.

How did MacBarry find out his mistake about the "Field"?

What did the young boy do to merit being called "The Little Hero of Haarlem"?

What would you have done if you had discovered the "hole in the wood"?

What is a sluice?

In what country did this incident occur?

What is a dyke?

What is meant by "The Muse of History"?

Who was the Duke of Wellington?

What did the boy do that pleased the Duke of Wel

lington ?

Do you like "A Boy's Song" by James Hogg?

What part do you like best?

What is the meaning of the word lea?

Where does Henry Coyle live?

Commit to memory the poem, "A Kind Word."

What lessons does this poem teach us?

"A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches."

THE LITTLE MIDSHIPMAN.

JEAN INGELOW.

JEAN INGELOW (1820-1897) was born at Boston, Lincolnshire, England; died at Kensington. Her prose and poetry gave her a high place among the English writers. She is a favorite with young and old.

Who is this? A careless little midshipman, idling about in a great city, with his pockets full of money. He is waiting for the coach. It comes up presently, and he gets on the top of it and begins to look about him.

They soon leave the chimney tops behind them; his eyes wander with delight over the harvest-fields, he smells the honeysuckle in the hedge-row, and he wishes he was down among the hazel bushes, that he might strip them of their milky nuts.

Then he sees a great wagon piled up with barley, and he wishes he was seated on the top of it. Then they go through a little wood, and he likes to watch the checkered shadows of the trees lying across the white road; and then a squirrel runs up a bough, and he cannot forbear to whoop and halloo, though he cannot chase it to its nest.

The passengers go on talking -the little midshipman has told them who he is and where he is going. But there is one man who has never joined in the conversation; he is dark looking and restless; he sits apart; he has heard the rattling of coin in the boy's pocket, and now he watches him more closely than ever.

The lad has told the other passengers that his father's home is the parsonage at Y -; ; the coach goes within five

miles of it, and he means to get down at the nearest point, and walk, or rather run, over to his home, through the great wood.

When they arrive at the place where the boy leaves the coach, the man decides to get down, too, and go through the wood. He will rob the little midshipman; perhaps, if he cries out or struggles, he will do worse. The boy, he thinks, has no chance against him; it is quite impossible that he can escape; the way is lonely, and the sun will be down.

It was too light at present for his deed of darkness, and too near the entrance of the wood; but he knows that shortly the path will branch off into two, and the right one for the boy to take will be dark and lonely.

But what prompts the little midshipman, when not fifty yards from the branching of the path, to break into a sudden run? It is not fear he never dreams of danger. Some sudden impulse, or some wild wish for home, makes him dash off suddenly with a whoop and a bound. On he goes, as if running a race; the path bends, and the man loses sight of him. "But I shall have him yet," he thinks; "he cannot keep this pace up long."

The boy has nearly reached the place where the path divides, when he starts up a young white owl that can scarcely fly, and it goes whirring along, close to the ground before him. He gains upon it; another moment and it will be his. Now he gets the start again; they come to the branching of the paths, and the bird goes down the wrong one. The temptation to follow is too strong to be resisted.

He knows that somewhere, deep in the wood, there is a cross track by which he can get into the path he has left. It is only to run a little faster, and he will be at home nearly

as soon.

On he rushes; the path takes a bend, and he is just out of sight, when his pursuer comes where the paths divide. The boy has turned to the right; the man takes the left; and the faster they both run, the farther they are asunder.

The boy does not know this part of the wood, but he runs on. O little midshipman! why did you chase that owl? If you had kept in the path with the dark man behind you, there was a chance that you might have out-run him; or, if he had overtaken you, some passing wayfarer might have heard your cries, and come to save you. Now you are running on straight to your death; for the deep and black at the bottom of this hill. moon might come out and show it to you!

forest water is

Oh! that the

The moon is under a thick canopy of heavy black clouds; and there is not a star to glitter on the water and make it visible. The fern is soft under his feet, as he runs and slips down the sloping hill. At last he strikes his foot against a stone, stumbles and falls. A second more and he will roll into the black water!

"Heyday!" cries the boy, "what's this? Oh, how it tears my hands! Oh, this thorn-bush! Oh, my arms! I can't get free!" He struggles and pants. of leaving the path," he says; "I shouldn't

"All this comes have cared for

rolling down, if it hadn't been for this bush. The fern was soft enough. I'll never stray in a wood at night again.

There, free at last! And my jacket nearly torn off my back!"

With a great deal of patience, and a great many scratches, he gets free of the thorn which arrested his progress when his feet were within a yard of the water. He manages to scramble up the bank, and makes the best of his way through the wood.

And now, as the clouds move slowly onward, the moon shows her face on the black surface of the water; and the little white owl comes and hoots, and flutters over it like a wandering snowdrift. But the boy is deep in the wood again, and knows nothing of the danger from which he has escaped.

All this time the dark passenger follows the main track, and believes that his prey is before him. At last he hears a crashing of dead boughs, and presently the little midshipman's voice not fifty yards before him. Yes; it is too true; the boy is in the cross track. He will soon pass the cottage in the wood, and after that his pursuer will come upon him.

The boy bounds into the path; but, as he passes the cottage, he is so thirsty and so hot that he thinks that he must ask the occupants if they can give him a glass of water. He enters without ceremony.

"Water?" says the woodman, who is sitting at his supper, "yes; we can give thee a glass of water, or perhaps my wife will give thee a drink of milk. Come in." So he goes in and shuts the door; and while he is waiting for the milk, footsteps pass. They are the footsteps of his pur