and sings and sings. Jem and Jetty like to wait and watch him till he drops down again in long jumps.

"Now he is coming," says Jem, as he sees the lark poise for an instant.

"Now he is coming," cries Jetty, as the little feathered songster drops down a foot or two.

We always know where to look for the wild violets. They like cool, shady places for their homes. We find them nestling in the banks, under the hedge that runs along the side of the wood. Jetty carries a little trowel and a basket. She digs into the damp earth all around the roots of the violets, then pulls up the plants and carries them home to her garden.

Sometimes we pick wild flowers and send them to pale-faced children who live in the town. They think it must be very dull in the country. But they do not know how lovely the country is in the springtime.

The woods are full of living things. There are the mice, the rabbits, and the birds. And soon all the trees will be green and the ground will be carpeted with bright flowers.

From the high windows of our house we can see over the fields to the woods, and we can see the trees change color very early in the spring. We watch the buds coming out on every branch.

On the way to the woods we pass through broad

FIFTH READER - 12

green fields. In these fields we see many sheep nibbling at the grass. Very early in the spring a day comes when, by the side of one old gray sheep, there is something small and white. Then we all three go across the field as quietly as we can to see the little new lamb. But before we are very close to them the gray mother moves away, and the little white lamb jumps up and scampers after her.

Before the spring is half gone other little lambs are skipping about and chasing each other over the green fields. Jem and Jetty are always wondering what the soft wooly creatures are thinking about in those queer little heads with their big ears and great round eyes.

When we come back from our long walk, we talk about the things we have seen to-day. And then we count up all the signs of spring.

"Children," I say, "how do you know that spring has come?"

"I know it," Jem quickly answers, "because we have had the cherry blossoms, and the apple blooms, and the violets, and the pussy willows!"

"Then there are the robins, and the butterflies, and the lambs," cries Jetty.

"Yes," I answer the happy children, "we know by all these lovely signs that spring has really come."

MADAME ARACHNE1

Madame Arachne sat in the sun at her door. From a spider's point of view she would have been considered a plump and pleasing person, but from a human standpoint she had, perhaps, more legs than are necessary to our ideal of beauty; and as for eyes, she was simply extravagant, having so many pairs that she could see all round the horizon at once.

She had built her house across the pane of a window in a lighthouse, and she sat at her door, in all the pride of patiently waiting for flies. The wind from the south breathed upon her pretty web, and rocked her to and fro. The sea made a great roaring on the rocks below; the sun shone; it was a lovely day.

Suddenly, a curious small cry or call startled Madame Arachne. It sounded as if some one said, "Yank, yank, yank!"

"Oh, dear me !" cried she; "what can that be?"

Then was heard a sharp tapping, which shook her with terror much more forcibly than the breeze had shaken her.

She started as if to run, when "Yank, yank, yank!" sounded again, this time close above her. She was not obliged to turn her head. Having so many eyes, she 1 By Celia Thaxter, an American writer (1836-1894).

saw, reaching over the top of the window, a sharp black beak and two round black eyes belonging to Mr. Nuthatch. He also was seeking his supper, and he purposed to himself to take poor Madame Arachne as a tidbit.

There was barely time for her to save her life. She threw herself from her door by a rope which she always carried with her. Down, down, down, she went, till at last she reached the rock below. But Nuthatch saw, and swept down after her.

Her many legs now served a good purpose. She scampered like mad over the rough surface, and crept under some shingles near the foot of the lighthouse and was safe. Nuthatch couldn't squeeze in after her. He probed every crack with his sharp beak, but did not reach her; then he flew away to seek some easier prey.

After a while, poor Madame Arachne crept out again and climbed to her window, looking all about with her numerous eyes while she swung. When she reached the pane where her pretty house had been built, she saw that no vestige of it was left. "Ugh!- the ugly old monster!" she whispered to herself.

Mr. Nuthatch had fluttered about in every corner of the window, and with wings and feet had torn the slight web all to pieces. Patiently Madame Arachne toiled to make a new one; and by the time the sun had set

it was all finished, and swinging in the breeze, as its predecessor had done.

And now a kind fate sent the hungry web-spinner her supper. A big, blustering bluebottle fly came blundering against the windowpane. Presto! Presto! Like a flash, Madame had pounced on him, and with terrible dexterity had grabbed him and bound him hand and foot. Then she proceeded to eat him at her leisure. Fate was kind to the spider; but alas, for the too trustful fly! Presently, she sought the center of her web and put herself in position for the night.

II

Very early in the morning, Madame Arachne began to bestir herself. High in a corner chamber of her house she wove a silken cocoon, white and satinsmooth, a shining cradle, snug and warm; and in it she laid several hundred tiny round eggs of dusky pink, and left them there to hatch when they should be ready. Then she went down to her seat in the middle of her web, and watched and hoped for flies.

She saw white sails on the sea, she saw white gulls in the air, she saw white foam on the rocks, as she sat in the sun. Days came, nights passed, winds blew, rains. fell, mists crept in and out, and still she watched for flies, with more or less success. At last a baby spider