step of the last cow plash through the stream, where some of them stopped to drink, and the sound of voices died away over the bridge; then in much hurry and alarm she thrust her wet little feet into her damp socks, which she had in her fright dropped into the water, and the wet feet and socks were hastily put into the shoes, and Little Me again climbed the stile to join her brother, to whom she was ashamed to own that she had been afraid of the cows.

Being a city child, and not a very strong one, Little Me was unused to wet feet, and she caught a bad cold, which ended by her spending many days in bed; but the boys brought her flowers, and Mrs. White made her many little loaves and cakes, and gave her honey and cream, and altogether Me thought being ill at a farmhouse much better than being well in the city.

OSCAR AND BRUNO.

When we were living in a very remote part of Northumberland, in an old house that had once been a monastery, we had two large dogs named Oscar and Bruno.

Oscar, who was a Newfoundland with a bit of the retriever in him, had been especially trained to take the water and to secure the game when shot among the deep pools.

Bruno, on the other hand, was a huge mastiff, who was kept to guard the house; gentle and docile to those whom he knew, but woe betide the suspicious-looking stranger who approached the house—his growl was enough to frighten the stoutest-hearted beggar in the world.

My father thought Bruno was getting a little lazy, so proposed to take him down to the river with Oscar. I was to accompany them, and see poor old Bruno have a bath.

The river was not very broad, narrow enough to be spanned by an old wooden bridge, but it was very deep in the centre.

Bruno floundered about, and at last got into the deep centre current, and, to my horror, I saw he was losing strength and sinking. I shouted to father that Bruno was drowning. He called to Oscar, "Save your friend, Oscar!" And the faithful creature seemed to grasp the situation, for he swam out to Bruno, and taking hold of his strong leather collar between his teeth, he lifted his head and shoulders out of the water. I eagerly watched them, for Bruno was very heavy, and it looked as if poor Oscar would not have strength to land his friend.

Father encouraged Oscar, for I saw the fear in his face too; and making one supreme effort, struggling and panting, Oscar brought Bruno into shallow water. In a few minutes Oscar was all right, but poor old Bruno was long before he came to himself. His devotion to Oscar after that was beautiful to see, and they were firmer and truer friends ever afterwards.

A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE.

Tom was one of those boys who, being fairly quick and clever, think they know everything and can do everything without being taught. Now, however quick and clever a boy or girl may be, this is a great mistake, because it is wiser and safer to profit by the experience of an older person than to learn by one's own experience. But Tom always knew beforehand anything that his father or mother could tell him; and the result was that he often found himself in the wrong, and more than once suffered for his conceit and self-sufficiency.

Tom had lived in London all his life, with only occasional visits to the seaside and a few days in the country at Christmas, when his father and mother usually went on a visit to his uncle's house at Felford. He was therefore much excited when at breakfast one morning, just after the Midsummer holidays had begun, his mother handed a letter across the table to her husband, asking, "What do you think of that?"

Tom's quick eyes saw that the writing was his uncle's. He watched, and saw his father and mother both glance at him.

"Well, Tom, I see you have your suspicions about this letter," said his father; "and you are right. It does concern you. Your uncle has asked you to go to Felford. Your aunt and the little ones will be away; but your uncle will be at home, and Allan will be there to keep you company. Now, do you think you can be trusted to go alone, and not give your uncle any trouble, or lead Allan into mischief?"

"Why, of course, Father!" Tom answered readily.

"I am sorry to say there is no 'of course' in the matter; but you can try this once, and I hope it may be as you say. But you must remember that your uncle is very strict, and that you will not be allowed"—

"Oh, I know!" said Tom, but his father stopped him.

"If you say that to me again I shall not let you go to your uncle's. If you know so well, you ought to practise what you know, and give less anxiety to your mother and me."

At last the day came. His father saw him off at the station; and, after a journey of two hours, Tom arrived at the Felford station, and found his uncle's wagon had come to meet him, and Allan was in it. The boys had much to say to each other; for they had not met for some months, and were always good friends, Allan being only eight months younger than Tom. Allan had much to tell of their plans for enjoyment while Tom was at Felford, and among other pleasant things, there was to be a village cricket match, in which Allan was to play.

"And you, too, Tom," he said, for he never doubted his cousin's powers. "It won't be a very grand match, you see, but it will be capital fun, and the boys play"—

"Oh, I know!" said Tom.

"All right: that will be capital," said Allan; and Tom, who had never held a bat in his life, found himself engaged to play in the match.

"But I shall find it quite easy," he thought. "I've seen it played, and the boys at school seem to find it simple enough."

His uncle was out riding when Tom reached Felford, having had business to attend to, so the boys at once went out into the garden and inspected the scene of the future cricket match.

Tom looked at it a moment, then visions of Lords came before him, and he said decidedly, "It wants rolling dreadfully!"

"Father said it was too dry to roll," said Allan, in rather a melancholy tone. "You see, if"—

"Oh, I know!" interrupted Tom; "but we might try to roll it ourselves, don't you know. That would be fun, and it would surprise him. Is there a roller anywhere?"

"Yes, the small garden-roller; but Father said"—

"Oh, I know!" said Tom impatiently. "Let us fetch it."

Allan said no more. It was clear that Tom did not intend to listen to anything he had to say.

"Do you know how to use the roller?" asked Allan.

"I should hope so! Any one must know that," said Tom; and away they went to fetch it.

Now, there is a right way and a wrong way to do everything, and a garden-roller should be pulled and not pushed, but this Tom did not understand; therefore, he set to work with Allan to push the roller through the garden towards the field, while Twinkle, the fox-terrier, followed at their heels.

A garden-roller is an awkward thing to manage if you don't understand it. The iron handle is heavily weighted, and if pressed down and then released it springs up with great force, owing to the weight with which it is balanced.

Tom knew nothing of this; and Allan had never been allowed to touch the roller, so he was as ignorant as Tom. They had paused to draw breath, when Twinkle's bark of delight made Allan exclaim, "There's Father!"

At that moment Tom took his arms off the iron handle on which they had been resting, and the handle sprang up. There was a cry from Allan, and Tom saw to his horror that one end of the iron bar had struck the boy just above the eye. It was a painful blow, and the bruise began at