as they came within sight of the enemy. "Halt!" cried General Tommy. The army halted. The traitor, "Dandy Jim," stood pointing his sword, and the dolls all kept still.

One long blast of the trumpet, and then the brave General Tommy cried out, "Now, soldiers, on, on to victory!"

On they went. The tin soldiers were soon swept down. The dog and the elephant were handsomely beaten; and, rushing into the fort, General Tommy seized the traitor, "Dandy Jim," by the throat, and said, "Now, sir, your doom is a dungeon!"

The dolls all fell on their knees, and thus was the great insurrection in Dolldom put down without bloodshed, and the authority of Queen Lucy the First fully restored. Of course, there was great rejoicing; and, when the reporter left, General Tommy was preparing for a grand illumination.

ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.

On a fine summer day, a dove, that was perched upon the branch of a tree, saw a bee fall into a stream that was flowing past. The poor bee tried to get out of the water, but could not.

The dove, seeing that the bee was struggling for her life, dropped a leaf close beside her, so that she might climb on to it, and save herself. This the bee at once did, and very glad she was to find herself safe once more.

Not long after this, a sportsman, who was roaming through the woods for game, saw the dove flying about, and lifted his gun to shoot her. But, just as he was taking aim, something happened, that checked him in the act.

The bee, whose life had been saved by the dove, was going about from flower to flower in search of honey, when she saw the sportsman taking aim at the good dove that had befriended her in her time of need. "That dove once saved my life, and now I will save hers," thought the bee to herself.

With that she flew at the sportsman, and stung him on the lip. The poor fellow dropped his gun with a loud cry of pain, which so startled the dove, that she flew away; and the man did not have another chance to shoot her. "Surely one good turn deserves another," thought the bee, as she turned merrily to her work.

A LETTER FROM TEXAS.

Dear Children,—I am writing this letter at my office-desk in San Antonio, Texas, a long way off from some of you who will read it. I am the big brother of a lot of little ones, and they call me "Doc."

We take "The Nursery," and the little folks think it is splendid. As soon as it comes, mamma reads the stories, and shows them the pictures.

They crowd around her to listen: some of them sit down on chairs like little ladies; some sit on the floor like beggars; and some—I am sorry to say—lie flat down on the carpet, like—certainly not like ladies and gentlemen.

What do you think, children, of boys and girls who lie on the floor, and kick up their heels in the air? You would not do so, would you?

Now listen! I want to tell you something about our cat. When we first got her, she was a tiny kitten, and we fed her on milk in a saucer. You ought to have seen her lap it up with her little tongue! Don't you think it is a pretty sight to see a kitten drinking milk? I do. But our cat isn't a kitten any longer, but a great, big, grown cat.

Well, the other night she got locked up in the schoolroom. You know Miss Anna and Miss Emma teach a big school in our house, and Willie, Pressley, Eddie, May, and Emily go to it. Sadie, "Little Lalla," and baby are too young for school yet. These are my little brothers' and sisters' names. There are eight of them mentioned here. See if you can count them.

As soon as Emily found out that Kitty was locked up, she ran to Miss Eliza and mamma, and asked them to let her out; but they said, "No," for they knew that, if she got out of the schoolroom, she would surely run into the dining-room, and drink up the baby's milk. So she had to stay there all night.

Early next morning, Miss Eliza went into the schoolroom to let Kitty out; and what do you think she saw? There was Kitty, fast asleep in Willie's little wagon, and four little kittens lying by her side, fast asleep too.

When Miss Eliza went back to the nursery, and told the children what she had seen, Eddie, May, Emily, Sadie, and even "Little Lalla" set up a big shout, and, bursting out of the nursery, ran shouting and laughing to the little wagon in the schoolroom, where, sure enough, there they were, four little ones. Three were gray and white, and one gray and black. Kitty looked so pleased and so happy! You ought to have seen her. Wasn't that a nice surprise?

May chose the one that looked most like Kitty: Emily and Sadie each chose one of the gray-and-white ones, and Eddie took the gray-and-black fellow.

To-day is Emily's birthday. She is seven years old, and may have a little party. If she does, how I would like to have you all here to play with her! However, at some future time I may write, and tell you all about it.

But it is time for me to run home, and get some dinner: so good-by.

DRAWING-LESSON BY HARRISON WEIR.

A STORY OF A SEAL.

"The seal is an amphibious quadruped."

"Oh, come now, Aunt Emily, do not puzzle us with your hard names," cries Johnny.

"But, Johnny, a lad seven years old ought to know that amphibious means 'capable of living on land or water;' and that quadruped means 'having four feet.'"

"Oh, now I understand," said Johnny. "But does the seal have feet?"

"It has a sort of feet; but they are so wrapped up in the skin, that they are not of much use on land, except to help it to creep, after a fashion. So the seal passes most of its time in the sea, coming on shore only to bask and sleep in the sun, or to suckle its young ones. It