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EDITED BY

FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT

ASSOCIATES:

KATHARINE NEWBOLD BIRDSALL VIVIAN BURNETT

Illustrated by

FLORENCE E. NOSWORTHY, HARRISON CADY, HAROLD SICHEL,

TONY NELL, CULMER BARNES, KATHARINE GASSAWAY,

A'LBERTINE RANDALL WHEELAN, EMILY DUNHAM,

LAETITIA HERR, DOROTHY FICKEN,

ETHEL N. FARNSWORTH, JOSEPHINE BRUCE, LOUIS WAIN, AND MANY OTHERS

NEW YORK

CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

Copyright. 1907. 1908. by HOLIDAY PUBLISHING COMPANY?

Copyright. 1909. by MOFFAT. YARD A COMPANY

Copyrifbt. 1915. by CHARLES W. CLARK COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY CUPPLES & LEON COMPAWY

All Right RtJtrveJ

Printed in U. S. A.

THE CHILDREN'S BOOK

THE BABY'S SECRET

OH ! stupid grown-up people who think yourselves 10 wite, If you only saw what / see— saw with a baby's eyes 1

You think the baby's laughing at the sunshine on the floor, But the baby sees the Little Folk dancing by the score.

j(A baby's half a fairy and knows all fairy tricks,

But he has quite forgotten by the time he'» half-past iix.y

You wonder why I'm smiling when the dimples come and go; I'm listening to the Little Folk singing soft and low.

They climb up on my pillow when I'm in my cradle laid. When a Fairy sees a baby he's not a bit afraid.

They tell me tales of Fairyland which grown-ups cannot hear. They make me coo and chuckle when they whisper in my ear.

You say, " Just watch him playing with his funny little hands ! " But I'm playing with the golden toys they bring from Fairyland.

You queer, big grown-up people who think yourselves so wise, If you only saw what / »ee — saw with a baby's eyes I

FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.

By ELIZABETH C. WEBB

TCE there were thirty-seven children who thought they would like to have a Fourth of July picnic. The reason there were only thirty-seven children was be- cause that was all the children there were in Brookville, where this story happened. They had planned to go down to Turtle's Wood and take their lunch, and in the afternoon they were going to set off fire- crackers and torpedoes, and in the even- ing they were going to set off more fire- crackers and more torpedoes, and fire- works besides. For weeks they had been saving up their allowances, and had brought a great supply of nice, noisy, bangy things for the Fourth.

And on the third, all those thirty-seven children packed their lunch baskets for the picnic, and went to bed so excited they could scarcely sleep.

Bright and early the next morning Wil- lie Pepper — he was one of the thirty-seven children — woke up, popped into his clothes, and ran down to the floor below.

"Father! Mother!" he called, "it's the Fourth of July, so I'm going to set off •ome firecrackers 1 "

"Willie Pepper," said a sleepy voice from the closed room, " it is not the Fourth of July, it is the fifth, and much too early to get up."

Willie Pepper thought his father was just teasing him. He frequently did. So he called cheerfully through the keyhole: " I know better ! To-day is the Fourth of July."

Then he heard his father's voice again — it was more awake this time : " It's the fifth of Jtly. Go downstairs and look at the morning newspaper, and see if it isn't."

So Willie, much worried, slid down the banisters, and there on the door-mat was the morning paper with " July fifth " printed right across the top. Willie had not been so astonished since the day he got to the head of the spelling class ; that was the awfully rainy day when there were only two children in the class. He seized the newspaper and tore over to Billy B inks' house — he was another of the thirty-seven children — as fast as he could. Half-way there he met Billy Binks run- ning to meet him, with an expression of dismay on his

Billy! "cried Willie. Willie! "cried Billy. « It's the fifth of July ! " they cried both together. Then they simply looked at each other. The catastrophe was so great they couldn't think of anything else to say. Just then they saw another of the thirty- seven children running toward them.

" All the lunch baskets are gone! " she cried.

In a few minutes the rest of the children were assembled. They then all stood in a large circle and looked at each other sadly and solemnly and said : " The lunch baskets are all gone, and it's the fifth of July! "

" But where's the Fourth?" cried Billy Binks. Nobody knew.

" We certainly didn't sleep all through it," said a little girl, " and yesterday was surely the third. What has become of the Fourth of July?"

" Somebody must have stolen it," said Willie Pepper. " What shall we do? "

" Well," said Billy Binks, " I don't see why we can't set off our firecrackers on the fifth. They'll make just as much noise."

At this a smile rippled all round the cir- cle, and the thirty-seven children clapped their hands and shouted with glee, " Of course we can set them off on the fifth just as well!"

Then Willie Pepper drew a package of firecrackers from his jacket pocket, and he drew a piece of punk and a box of matches from another pocket, and all the children smiled. Then he unbraided the pigtails of the firecrackers, separated one, and set it up in the middle of the circle of children. Then he lighted the punk with a match, and he lighted the pigtail of the firecracker with the punk, and the children all stood back and waited. The little red spark at the end of the firecracker's pigtail glowed

and glowed, and the pigtail got shorter and shorter, till at last it got right down to the firecracker itseK, and then— then it went

out!

" Oh! " cried the children in disappoint- ment, " it wasn't a good one ! "

" I'll try another," said Willie, and he did. But again the same thing happened.

" You haven't left your firecrackers out in the rain, have you, Willie? " asked Billy. " Rain's very bad for firecrackers' health."

Willie sniffed scornfully. "Of course not," he replied. " Guess I know enough not to leave firecrackers out in the rain, even if I am two months and a quarter younger than you, Billy Binks."

" S'pose we try one of mine," said Billy, and he lighted one of his own firecrackers. But it went out, just as Willie's had done. Then the rest of the thirty-seven children took firecrackers out of their jacket pockets and their apron pockets, but they wouldn't bang. And they took torpedoes out of their jacket pockets and their apron pockets, and threw them down as hard as they could, but the torpedoes just broke to pieces as quietly as snowflakes. Then the thirty-seven children looked at each other again, and some of the littlest ones began to cry.

Then Willie Pepper drew himself up and folded his arms.

"Someone," he said severely, "has stolen our lunch baskets and the Fourth of July, and all the bangs out of our fire- crackers and torpedoes. Who is it?" And the thirty-seven children cried too together :

" The gray elf of the mountain ! " Whenever anything went wrong at Brookville— when the currant jelly wouldn't jell, or the cow kicked over the milk pail— people always said "It's the gray elf of the mountain ! " And gener-

V-

ally it was. The gray elf was about as tall as a ruler, and he always dressed in gray velvet, so that's why they called him the gray elf. He lived in a cave on a high ledge of the mountain that overlooked Brookville, and whenever he came out of that cave and down to the village of Brookville things began to happen, and the people said, " Oh, that gray elf, that gray elf, that naughty, mischievous gray elf! What shall we do with him?"

Now this was a silly thing to say, for they never got a chance to do anything to him, because they never could catch him, although the Brookville County Council had handbills printed offering a reward of $3.70 for his apprehension and conviction. But on the fifth of July, Willie Pepper de- cided to do something.

" I'm going up that mountain," he said, " to the cave on the ledge of rock, and I'm going to make that gray elf give us back our lunch baskets and the Fourth of July and the bangs out of our firecrackers. Who's going with me ? "

" We're going ! " cried all the rest of the children.

So they set out, all thirty-seven of them, Willie Pepper marching at the head of the procession with the newspaper under his arm, the rest of the children walking be- hind, two by two, like a boarding-school. Up the mountain they marched, high up, till they came to the ledge of rock that spread out in front of the gray elf's cave like a piazza. Then Willie Pepper walked straight up to the front door of the cave, and knocked 'a good loud knock with his fist. The gray elf was very busy inside the cave. He had spread out all the thirty- seven lunch baskets in a long line and was just going to begin unpacking them when he heard Willie Pepper knock at the door.

" I guess that's the postman," he said to

himself. " Slip the letter under the door," he called out, for he was so excited about unpacking the lunch baskets that he did not want to stop to open the door.

He had begun untying the first basket when Willie Pepper knocked at the door again, louder than before.

"Oh bother!" said the gray elf. "It must be the grocery boy." He was in such a hurry to find out what was in the first basket that he hated to stop, so he called out, "I don't want any groceries to-day. I have thirty-seven lunch baskets full of things to eat."

Thirty-seven lunch baskets! The chil- dren looked at each other. Then Willie took the newspaper from under his arm and rolled it up into a large cornucopia, and he called through it so that his voice sounded just as if he were a great big grown-up man : " I know you have our lunch baskets! That's what we've come all the way up the mountain for. You must give them back to us right away ! "

" Shan't! " cried the gray elf in a great state of excitement, gathering the lunch baskets about him. " I want to keep them myself, and I never took them, and I don't know anything about them, and I'm asleep anyhow, so go away as quietly as you can or you'll wake me up."

" You must give us our baskets, and the Fourth of July, and all the bangs out of our firecrackers and torpedoes," repeated Willie.

" I didn't take them, and I won't give them back, and you couldn't possibly find them because you don't know where I put them," said the naughty elf.

" If you don't open the door before I count ten," Willie continued, unmoved, " we will break it down. One, two, three " he began counting slowly.

" I'll open it. I'll open it ! " cried the

" 0«AT ELF," HE SAID, " YOU HAVE BEEN /J8T AS NAUGHTY A3 YOU COULD POSSIBLY BX "

gray elf in a great fright, and he tumbled locked the cupboard door, put the key in

all the baskets into the big hide-away cup- his pocket, and opened the front door,

board in which he kept all the things he " Do you know," he said, " I thought I

knevr he oughtn't to have. Then he heard someone knocking. I hope I

*u»ven't kept you wait " But ht didn't

get any further, for just at that moment Willie clapped the big newspaper cornu- copia over him, and there he was caught last and tight, and he couldn't get out again. The gray elf kicked and the gray elf squirmed, but Willie held the cornu- copia firmly. Then the elf tried to make a hole in the cornucopia, but Willie heard the paper tear, and he slipped his hand quickly underneath, caught the gray elf round the waist, and dragged him out. Then he held him at arm's length between his hands, but gently, so he should not hurt him.

" Gray elf," he said, " you have been just as naughty as you could possibly be, and the Brookville County Council has offered a reward of $3.70 for your appre- hension and conviction " — Willie had read the handbills — " and that would be ten cents for each of us, so we will take you to them and get the $370 to buy new fireworks unless you give us back our old ones and our lunch baskets and the Fourth of July."

" I don't care," said the gray elf, kick- ing one heel carelessly, " I'd like real well to be taken to the Brookville County Coun- cil ! " He just said that, he didn't really mean it, for he didn't know what an ap- prehension or conviction was ; they sounded a little uncomfortable.

" Very well," said Willie, and he turned to go down the mountain.

"I guess," said the gray elf, clinging rather tightly to Willie's arm, " I guess-

maybe — after all— I won't go to-day. Th« lunch baskets and things are in th« hide- away cupboard. Here's the key." Then all th"e children went into the cave and un- locked the cupboard, and got the baskets.

" The Fourth of July is wrapped up in that pink tissue paper package," said the elf, " and the bangs are in that tin cracker- box. I wish I could keep them, because I haven't anything to play with and it is so lonely up here just by myself."

" If you were a nice, good gray elf you could play with us," said Willie.

" I'll be good ! I'll be good ! " cried the elf. " I'm only naughty because I haven't anything else to do."

" All right," said Willie. « We're going to have a picnic in Turtle's Wood, and you can come to it," and he sat the gray elf on his shoulder.

So the children trooped down the mountain to the woods. When they got there it was late afternoon and the sun was getting low in the western sky. But as soon as Willie untied the string of the pink tissue paper package and the Fourth of July flew out, the sun jumped back to the east, and it was morning again — the morn- ing of the Fourth of July.

Then the children opened the tin cracker- box, and as soon as the cover was lifted all the bangs went off one after the other — bang ! bang Ibang ! bang ! — so loud that Wil- lie's father, way back in the village, woke up and rubbed his eyes and said, "Dear me ! It is the Fourth of July after all ! "

AN ILLUMINATION

•HE moon was home A little mouse

One summer night, Who saw the sight.

And made her house Went back to bed

So round and bright In great affright.

J. F. CBOWBLL.

VICTOR'S DRAGOON TROUSERS

By JANET THOMAS

|NCE upon a time, many years before Jackie or Mabel or Dorothy or any other child whose bright eyes are reading these pages were born, there lived across the big ocean in sunny France a very little boy, who at times was quite naughty. His poor mother was at her wits' end to know what to do to make him a well-behaved child.

Not that Victor meant to be a bad boy! Oh, no! What little boy or girl does mean to be naughty ? But it did seem as though the little French laddie found very many things to do that his mother wished him not to do.

One day when she felt that he had been altogether too naughty, and had come in from play with his clothes badly torn (for it was one of his big faults to spoil his clothes), his mother said in a vexed tone:

"Victor! Victor! How shall I keep clothes on you, child? Now, I shall dress you again, and if these new clothes are torn I shall give you dragoon trousers."

"Dragoon trousers! And what are

those? " thought Victor. Some new kind of clothes surely; perhaps made of some kind of cloth that he could not tear. He had never heard the word before, and it so lodged itself in his little pate that he re- peated it many times to himself during the next few hours. " Dragoon trousers ! " he would say thoughtfully. " If I tear these I have on, mother will give me some dra- goon trousers."

It so happened, as he was playing about the garden that afternoon, that he heard a great burst of music and the noise of cheering. Hurrying to the wall, he climbed up and peeped over.

Such a surprising sight met his eyes. It almost caused him to lose his balance and fall back from the stone wall. There, almost opposite him, was a troop of French soldiers dressed in gay uniforms a.nd mounted upon splendid, prancing horses. Such gay, beautiful clothes Victor had never seen before; and as the trimmings and firearms flashed in the sunlight, and tiie handsome soldiers marched to the beat of the drum, it was enough to awaken the soul of boys little and big.

Who were they, Victor wondered; and just as he was thinking this, an old Frenchman who walked with a cane hob- bled by and as he reached Victor he said to his companion:

hard against a stone. But he did not evSB notice the pain, for he was saying to him- self:

"Dragoons! Dragoons! And such beautiful clothes with such beautiful

YOU SHALL HAVE DRAGOON TROUSZES ' '

" Why are the dragoons out to-day ? " Then, in great amazement and without even hearing the reply, Victor did tumble Off his perch and bumped his shins very

trimmings! And if I tear my clothes mother says she will give me dragoon trousers! Surely it is worth tearing them!"

When Victor wanted a thing at all he wanted it very much and right away. And the more he thought of the splen- didly dressed soldiers, the more he wished that he might think of some way to tear his clothes so that his mother would keep her promise. Bei^g anxious to tear them, he had better luck than in a whole week of Sundays when he tried with might and main to get into no mischief; and not a rent appeared in his clothes. They stayed beautifully whole and neat. In vain did he run and climb. The more he fell the better his suit looked and he despaired of ever tearing his clothes \ and the coveted "dragoon trousers" seemed very far away.

At last he could stand it no longer, and running into the house he took a big pair of shears from his mother's sewing table and slashed the trousers in many places until the suit was in rags. Then he ran to his mother, crying:

" Mother, mother, give me some dra- goon trousers. See, I have torn my clothes 1 "

" What ! " cried his mother, scarcely believing her eyes, "the new clothes I but just put on you, torn? And cut to pieces at thatl Indeed, Victor, you shall

have dragoon trousers ! You d«««rv« ^ and it may teach you a lesson."

Thereupon she seized th« little fcotf, took him across her knee and gave him the hardest spanking he had ever known. Then she led him to another room and put upon him an old pair of patched trousers. In his disappointment at not receiving the new clothes he expected Victor was very near to tears, but he managed to blurt out:

" But you said you would give me dra- goon trousers, mother, and these are my very oldest that you had thrown away."

" Tut, child," said his mother, tried be- yond all patience, "would you have me believe that a French boy does not know that 'dragoon trousers' means nothing but a good spanking? And that I have just given you."

Then little Victor's heart was like lead. Who would ever have supposed that " dra- goon trousers " could mean those beauti- ful clothes of the gay soldiers and also a whipping?

Now if an old Frenchwoman should tell any little American boy or girl that he or she will be given " dragoon trousers," re- member what is in store and be on your best behavior.

A CHRISTMAS HOLD-UP

By ARTHUR RENWICK O'HARA

OMMY MORRIS sat in the manger of his father's stable while Biddy, his little white bantam, ate grains of wheat from his chubby hand.

" Just think, Biddy, you old dear," said Tommy, " to-morrow is Christmas and to- night I'll hang up my stocking, for Santa Claus is coming."

He hoped that they would feed their pig and go away without knowing that he was there.

Pretty soon he heard the younger Hen- nesey say : " That was shure a fine letter ye writ to ould Santy. The worruk of it must have fair sprained yer head Mickey, jist read it agin, won't ye? "

" All right," returned Mickey, unfold-

Just then the door of the adjoining stable opened, and through the cracks Tommy caught the gleam of a round red head of one of his young neighbors, Policeman Hennesey's sons.

Tommy sat very still. He and the Wetmeseys were not good friends.

ing a piece of dirty, crumpled paper, " but ye'll have to shell the pig's corn if I do, for my hands will be busy."

Tommy had been taught that eaves- dropping was very wrong; i»o he closed his eyes and stopped his ears; but this is what he heard :

M Dear Sandy Claws, we air seven pore orflings that live in pleeceman henneseys stable an we hop youl bring us sum presents or me littul bruthers harts will be broke we like kandy toyes ornges an everthin cum erly before you goes anny- wears else so no more at presen from >even pore orflings."

" Are ye shure we can overpower 'im ? " inquired Patsey, as his brother refolded the letter. "Ye see, he's bound to thrip over thim strings we'll have tied in front of the dure, an' sind his pack a tumblin' an' thin "

And then — Tommy's round grey eyes grew yet more round with horror as he listened to the dark plot unfolded by Mick and Patsey. Good gracious! What vil- lainy ! Who would have believed that so much rascality and cunning lurked within those round red heads? Tommy could scarcely believe his ears — the Henneseys were going to decoy Santa into the stable by means of that letter, rob him of his pack, and— if he resisted — perhaps mur- der him.

Tommy put Biddy down and made for the house as fast as his fat little legs could carry him ; and he shook his bank with all his might till at last he shook out the dime which was all the money he had, and then he hurried out and boarded a street car, for he felt that there was not a moment to be lost.

" I never did tell on them before," he reflected, "no matter what they did to me, for I don't like to be a tattler; but this is too awful to keep."

" Let me off here, Mr. Conductor," he said, politely, as he caught sight of Mr. Hennesey just outside of the police sta- tion, and rushing up to that astonished gentleman he told him of the crime con- templated by b<s sons.

" You know your two boys, Mr. Hen- nesey," he began, breathlessly "You know Patiey and Mickey — well, they've got up a plan to rob Santa Claus. They've wrote him a letter telling him they are seven poor orphans that live in your stable, so that he'll be sorry for them, and when he comes he'll trip over their string, an' if he don't give 'em his pack without any fuss I 'spect they'll kill him." And the tears rolled down Tommy's plump cheeks.

" The spalpeens ! An' who would have belaved it of 'em ? " cried their in- dignant father. "See here, Bub," he said kindly, as he handed Tommy a bright, new silver quarter, "jist do you go home an' rist aisy. I'll see that they don't bar rum ould Santy, an' jis' kape yer eye on the stable this night an' see what happens."

Christmas Eve Tommy retired early, but not to sleep. Wrapped in the bed- clothes, with his small nose flattened against the frosty window pane, he watched the Hennesey stable; and this is what he saw : First, the two young Hen- neseys, heavily armed, stealing forth and entering the stable.

Soon afterward there came a tall, oddly dressed person carrying a pack. Tommy supposed that this must be Santa Claus — yet he did not look as Tommy had ex- pected Santa Claus to look, neither did his bundle look like Santa Claus's pack, as he had seen it in pictures.

While he was thinking of this he heard ear-splitting howls, and he saw this strange Santa Claus throw aside his pack, gather up two frightened, red-haired boys, and spank them soundly and then roll them in the snow.

As Mickey and Patsey fled to the safe

waven of their mother's kitchen, Tommy saw Santa Claus pick up his strange pack and fling it in the Hennesey stable and go chuckling away.

The next morning, Tommy, peering through a crack in the Hennesey stable, noted, with astonishment, that the queer pack was only a large bundle of tough willow switches ; but he told no one about them.

That afternoon, during their mother's absence, the two young Henneseys indus- triously chopped up these switches and

burned them in the kitchen stove, but— they said nothing about them.

On Christmas morning, when Mr. Hen- nesey gave them a few toys, he remarked grimly : " Here's a few things yer mother bought for ye. I suppose old Santy was too busy lookin' afther poor orflings to think of yez," but — he said no word of switches.

Mrs. Hennesey knew naught of her son's wicked scheme, so she, of course, said nothing about the switches. So you see the secret of the Christmas Hold-up was pretty well kept — for a secret

(iONSENSE RHYMES

»v DOROTHY HCKEN

, sa.id To StsTer Oua- innocene* delicious- 'Should one use

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SLOWBOY AND THE BLUE GOBLINS

By W. H. AMD S. W. WALLACE

LITTLE "Slowboy" Jones was eight years old, when he had a very odd adventure. He had earned the nicknam* of " Slow- boy" by his bad habits, although in the main a good boy, bright at his studies and not given to telling stories. But Sammy— which was his real name — was lazy and quick-tempered. Why, when that boy was angry, which was too often the case, he would stamp on the floor, bang doors, tear off his collar and tie, or even burst off all the buttons of his shoes. As bad as was his temper, however, we are sorry to re- cord that his indolence was even worse; for he was overfond of a soft bed, very often late to his breakfast, and would come down in a state of incompleteness quite shocking — his shoes half buttoned, face unwashed, or only washed on one side, hair in a whirl, buttons unbuttoned and strings in his clothes untied. But do not blame his fond parents, for they tried often to reform him, when he would be hurried upstairs and his toilet brusquely finished with what he considered unnec- tortures. Or, at table, his mother

would suddenly exclaim, on his reaching for a biscuit:

" Now, now, my dear, wait and things will be passed to you." Or, when he tried to get that last potato : " No, no, always remember to leave the last of a dish for Mr. Manners."

Mr. Manners, who never came, but was always expected, was a sore puzzle to Slowboy. Why did he not come and eat his dinner and be over with it, thought Slowboy.

But he did not improve at all ; for his bad habits were very hard to lay aside.

One bright Sunday Slowboy asked his mother, after a severe reprimand at table, who this Mr. Manners was, and why he did not ever come to his meals, so con- stantly saved for him.

His mother looked over her eye-glasses at him and said, mysteriously : " You must not be too curious about Mr. Manners; he's a gentleman, sir, and would never, never grab at table or leave his face un- washed, or his clothes untidy — never. And," she leaned over, whispering, "he may call very suddenly some day, oerhaoa

to-morrow— he and the blue goblins. They are especially fond of calling on a blue Monday.'' Then mamma laughed and re- assured him, for at the mention of goblins little Slowboy turned pale. "There are really no goblins, dear, excepting in your mind's eye," added his papa.

When dark came, and bed-time, poor little Slowboy felt nervous. Whom should he believe? And what was a ' mind's eye?' He retired in a very serious state of mind indeed.

ON THE BED STOOD A STRANGE BEAST, LIKE A BABY ELEPHANT.

The next morning Slowboy awoke, to find himself, as usual, in a deliciously drowsy state. He remembered that it was Monday, and that his father had often said, " Every Monday is a Blue Monday to schoolboys." With this thought came another — Mr. Manners was fond of call- ing on a Blue Monday. Oh, he felt scared, and peeped carefully over the coverlid ! The clock in his mother's room struck eight, and someone called out, " Bnrtle. bustle, now ! It's time for break-

fast, and nearly time for school, Slow- boy."

" I will not," said he sullenly, anu he turned over for another nap. But he could not get over a feeling that something was about to happen, and peeping out, he was sure he saw little objects hopping in at the window and alighting on the footboard of his cot. They looked just like bright blue crows sitting on a telegraph wire. Slowboy now stared hard. Yes, he saw with fright a number of curious birds, the like of which he had never seen before. They were all made of blue tinware, surely, and covered with stiff feathers that rattled whenever they moved, like a lot of tin pans falling from a shelf. Their eyes shone like headlights on an autocar or a locomotive, while puffs of steam came from their open bills. O-o-h ! He gazed in terror, and saw now that on the head of each bird was a huge brass whistle. Hardly had he noticed this, when all the birds emitted from the whistles several piercing shrieks, and then all flew out the win- dow again.

Slowboy was certainly awake now, he thought, but as the moments passed and the blue crows did not return, he decided that he was deceived and dozed off again.

Plump! An object like a heavy pillow landed on the bed; and before Slowboy could turn to see what it was — bump, bump, bang ! He was pushed right out of bed and landed on the floor. On the bed stood a strange beast like a baby elephant, only instead of a trunk it had a scoop on its nose. The boy thought it was a goblin. As he called loudly for mamma, the crea- ture scuttled hastily up the chimney. Slowboy was no longer sleepy, and no- ticed his clothes neatly folded on a chair.

This was strange, for he usually tossed them in every direction when he retired. Very thoughtful and sober, he scurried into his clothes, taking scared peeps be- hind him, and omitting as much of his

nallway. He could not reach them no mat- ter how fast he rushed after them. In despair he sat down to cry, but instead he buttoned up his shoes and waist. To his surprise the stairs resumed their usual

SLOSH — StOSH — SLUZZLE — SLUZZLE-SLAP ! CAME SOME SOFT WET OBJECT RIGHT INTO HIS FACE.

toilet as possible. Such ceremonies as washing and brushing his hair and tying his waist, he did not at this time consider necessary. Everything in his room looked out of place and excessively neat, and he was glad to scamper out of it. In the hall, he found that the stairs had away and were far off down a long

place as soon as he had done this. So great was his hurry to get to breakfast now, that he slid down the banisters and entered the room as if running a foot race. But here his bewilderment grew apace. Mercy ! What was going on there ? In- stead of his mamma and papa seated at the little round table, there sat a great num-

fcev 01 boys at a very long table, with a itrange man at the head. All these boys /fere neatly washed and dressed. Poor, .scared Slowboy turned to escape, but the door oddly moved away just as the stairs had done, so that he could not get out; whereat all those boys laughed loudly, the man rapped on the table, and there was a dreadful din to be sure. Slowboy, see- ing no avenue of escape, sat down in a chair at the table and gave up for the moment. He saw that on the back of every chair sat one of the blue crows.

The severe person whom Slowboy guessed was Mr. Manners, admonished him to eat his meal and not to talk so much, which he thought odd since he had not spoken. He also perceived that Mr. Manners spied and instantly corrected the slightest breach of table behavior ; and if a boy did not eat what was placed be- fore him, the food was gobbled up by the blue crow on his chair. Several boys were already in this predicament.

Very much grieved at these astounding changes in his mother's dining-room, Slowboy sat dallying with a plate of beans that was before him ; he felt hungry, but was too angry to eat.

"You had better eat your beans quickly," whispered a boy next to him, "or they will all be gone."

"Mind your own business," shouted sSlowboy angrily, " this is my dining-room, '••vway

He tasted the beans, however, and find- Jig them good, he was on the point: of devouring them, when Mr. Manners called out suddenly: "Master Jones is leaning his elbows on the table ! That is very rude. Where could he have been brought up,, except in the backwoods?" Slowboy angrily put down his fork to although the voice and remark

sounded strangely like his mothers, when whisk ! His beans were all gobbled up by the blue crow. This was too much. With a scream of rage, Slowboy dashed his empty plate at the blue crow (the plate went straight through a large glass cup- board door) and rushed toward the door. The door kindly stayed in one place, and he found himself in the street.

" I just wish I was a growr»-up man," he sobbed. "I'd hit him!"

Where were his parents? Where all those school-boys he knew ? Looking down the long white road, Slowboy saw the old red school-house with the boys and girls flocking in. There was a large number of boys and girls, not one of whom he knew, all hurrying to the brick school- house. Some of these boys, he gleefully observed, were bothered by whole flocks of those strange blue birds, of all shapes and sizes, while the other children all laughed at the unfortunate ones.

Slowboy was just joining in the laugh, when suddenly — slosh-slosh-sluzzle-sluz- zle-slap! came some soft wet object right into his face, actually washing him. It rubbed around his eyes, ears and nose, down neck and under chin, thoroughly and vigorously until he dripped miserably with soap and warm water. He tried to fight off this bird — it was a bird — and at last got a look at it. Something like a duck, it was soft and full of hole? as ?. fcath sponge. Its feathers oozed and dripped soap and water. Very soon Slow- boy was as clean as a new pin, but before he could breathe freely, this bird gave place to another, that went sopp-soop, all over his face with clear and very cold water. This one had wings like two wash- rags. It was closely followed by a very large bird that completely covered his head W ill soft folds, and resembled a bttfc

towel very closely. While being wiped dry by the Towel-laird, Slowboy felt two jmall birds hum up and bore out his ears ; #hile as soon as he was dry, others at- tacked him, one pair rubbing and brushing and combing his tangled locks until his head burned; another, with a long taper bill, vigorously arranging his neglected tie; and still others buttoning up his clothes with violent yanks and jerks. My, what a dreadful ordeal that was 1 And when at last the fussy, annoying birds flew off to another bad boy, Slowboy stood paralyzed with fright and anger. A nice, clean, neat boy approached and smiled at him.

" Well, they fixed you up finely, didn't they ? " he said to Slowboy. " That's the way I was treated once; I have been through it all, too. You've had the Soap- and-water Bird, the Sponge-him-off, Towel and Comb -.nd-brush birds. Now look out for the Hurry-skurry ; I guess you will learn, what's-your-name."

" Hush up ! " screamed Slowboy, rudely. " You're a goody-goody," The other boy

hurried off laughing, just as the achoolj bell began to ring.

The bell was still ringing as he reached the door and every other scholar had gone in. A fear of being late seized him, and he dashed headlong through the door.

But O, what did this mean? Instead of the kindly schoolma'am, there sat Mr. Manners in the chair, prim and severe, gazing over his spec's. Before Slowboy could find his seat, which seemed to have moved away, a large thin bird with a very long flexible bill, attacked him, and began whipping him severely. The Rattan-bitf was doing splendid work on poor Slow- boy, whose howls grew louder and louder,

"