Wonder-eyes and What-for had little friends to tea. Their table was a wash-bench under a shady tree.

While they took a-walking their dollies dressed in silk, Johnny, left to guard the feast, upset the cup of milk.

"O, dear, where shall I hide me? what will my sister say? say? I wish that I had stayed at home, and not come here to play."

Beneath the hill a bossie was lowing in his shed, because he thought it high time that baby calves were fed.

A happy thought struck Johnny, and he began to laugh: "If big men milk the cows, can't little boys the calf?"

The good dame at her door heard such a dreadful clatter, she hastened out to learn whatever was the matter.

She saw a cloud of dust, and, in a moment more, Johnny and the bossie calf careering round the floor.

Come here, dear calf," he said,

"don't be

afraid; you see, I only want a little milk for Wonder-eyes and me."

'Why, Johnny, is that you? And is it just for fun, you naughty, naughty boy, you make poor bossie run?"

Then Johnny showed the cup, and told his little tale. The good dame gave him milk fresh from a bright tin pail.

Thanking her politely, as fast as he was able, Johnny hastened back, and here you see them at the table.1

1 From "WONDER EYES AND WHAT FOR," by permission of Cassell & Co.

ADVANCED

FIRST READER.

THE BOY AND THE BIRD.

BOY.

Dicky bird, dicky bird, whither away?
Why do you fly when I wish you to stay?
I never would harm you, if you would come
And sing me a song while you perch on my

thumb.

BIRD.

Dear boy, I will sing to you here in the tree,
But pray do not come any nearer to me;
Your wide-open hand and your eyes big and
bright

So fill my poor heart with trembling and fright.

ΒΟΥ.

I love you, dear dicky, so why should you fear?
If you'll come with me, my sweet, pretty dear,
You shall live in a house of silver so gay,
And feed on a lump of white sugar each day.

But, my dear boy, I've a nest in this tree,
And three little baby birds waiting for me.
I should pine in a house of silver so gay,
And starve on a lump of white sugar each day.

I love the fresh air, the sunshine so free;
My swing in the rose-bush, my home in the tree.
My birdies are calling me, so I must fly,
And sing as I leave you,
"Good by, good by."

lose, losing, lost; find, finding, found.

through loos'en

THE WILLOW WHISTLE.

Do any of you remember about a little boy who

lost his knife?

The story of it is in the Primer.

way it begins, "Where do

can be?"

This is the

Where do you think my knife

The boy made a great deal of talk about the lost knife,- as little boys, and girls, too, are apt to do, if they lose anything.

At last he found it in his own jacket pocket, the very best place in the world for a boy to keep his knife.

And now there is more to tell you about this same boy. He looks older now. I wonder if the knife he has is the same that he had then.

He can use it better, I am sure. He says he can make a willow whistle. He tells us how to do it, too, and that is harder still.

If you little readers cannot do it now, learn how it is done, and try sometime to make one yourselves.