the lips of those who met them to take them back to mission-school, asylum, or tenement! Pale, sickly faces had grown as brown as russet apples. The lean, hungry look had gone. Sad, wistful faces had lapsed into content. The hollow-eyed, listless maiden, who had explained to her hostess on her first morning in the country that she never could eat any breakfast at home, because there were six of them in two rooms and she had to sleep on a mattress close by the cooking-stove, came back plump, rosy, and cheerful. Some of the children seemed to have nearly doubled their weight. The sick babies, the nervous children who had been in the hospital for months, and many an exhausted, careworn mother, who had been sent away because physicians had said that their lives depended upon their having the country air, returned wonderfully improved in health. They were all at home again, many of them entirely reclothed, every one stronger, fresher, and happier. The children's vacation was over.

Some of the good people in the country were glad that it was over. There was the staid deacon, who was sorely disappointed when the boy and girl at his house begged to be excused from going to church one Sunday, and greatly horrified to find, at the close of the service, that they had taken advantage of the occasion to invade the pig-pen with a pot of black paint, and touch up every ear and tail in a new litter of little pigs. He was glad to have such mischievous chil

dren go back to town. Then there were a few weary farmers' wives, who had listened too credulously to the exaggerated accounts given by the children of their city homes, and become painfully oppressed with the thought that they were being

imposed upon. But these instances of dissatisfaction were rare. As a rule, the children's conduct was excellent and their departure was viewed with keen regret. Here and there a child was adopted by a farmer's family, or given a home for six months or a year, and often the vacations were prolonged a second or even a third fortnight at the request of the entertainers. The pathos of neglected childhood softened many a heart. There was the motherly little maiden who, accustomed to looking after her agile brother, discovered on the second day that he had shed a button, and sedately produced from the depths of her pocket a large pillbox labeled, "For Johnny. Take one every hour." The hourly dose was only a button, which she proceeded with great carnestness to sew on his jacket, but the child's thoughtfulness and sweetness touched the sympathies of every member of the household. In many ways the children transplanted from back alleys to green fields have exerted a good influence upon those who were generously contributing to their pleasure.

As for the little ones themselves, they were always sorry to have their vacation over, but they consoled themselves with the reflection that what had happened once might happen again. They were right, for this is surely one of those works of mercy which appeal to every heart in town or country, and which will flourish year after year.

"What do you think Heaven will be like?" asked a teacher in one of the city missionschools during the autumn.

"Oh, I know! I know!" exclaimed the smartest girl in the class, her face brightening with a look of delight,-"It will be like the country!" Perhaps she had seemed thankless and indifferent while she was there, but the country remained in her mind, a blessed and restful thought.