together every little while with a sharp click.

The blind man felt very uneasy. "I do wish," he thought, "my wife would come in and see what the little chap is up to."

To console himself, the blind man opened his snuff-box and took a pinch of snuff. What do you think the little chap did? He slyly put in his finger and thumb, and took a pinch too. And then how he did sneeze!

The tailoress heard him sneeze, and came in. She saw at once what had been going on. Parley-voo had been cutting his hair.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed mamma, when the nurse brought him home.

"Dear, dear!" cried aunt Tib, "what a looking child!"

Then the bonne told where she found him, and they looked at his hair, and talked so much about it, that Parley-voo wished he could sink through the floor out of sight. And he thought to himself that he would never again touch any thing he had been told not to.

The nurse took him up to the nursery, and dressed him all fresh and nice before his father came home. But the pretty yellow hair was two or three months growing out.

BABY'S RIDE.

THE OLD PUMP.

WINTER ON LAKE CONSTANCE.

People came from far and near to see it and to skate on it. The lake was black with skaters who were gliding over its surface.

Men, women, and children alike shared the fun. There had not been such skating before for fifty years, and it is no wonder that they made the most of it while it lasted.

In January a warm wind blew for two days: the huge masses of snow melted, and the little brooks were once more set running down the mountain-sides. But winter was soon back again with redoubled severity, bringing fresh snow and severer frost, and thus keeping the lake frozen.

On Candlemas Day (the second day of February) there was a grand festival on the ice. The peasants came from far and near. There were thousands of them there. In the evening there was a grand illumination, and after that there were fireworks, and then a dance on the ice.

In summer the water of Lake Constance is of a dark green color. The River Rhine enters it at the western end, and flows out at the eastern end. The lake is about forty-four miles long and nine miles wide.

The view of the frozen lake from the mountains is said to have been very fine. As you looked down on its smooth glittering surface, the skaters moving over it appeared like mere specks, while the houses in the village were like doll-houses.

SWAN-UPPING.

Some miles from London, on one of the most beautiful parts of the River Thames, a great number of swans are kept, which are owned by the Dyers' and Vintners' Companies.

The owners value them so highly, and take such care of them, that they have about as nice a time as any birds could wish to have. I fancy that these Thames swans hold their heads higher, and feel prouder, than any other swans in England.

They build their nests in the osier-beds, by the side of the river, but out of the reach of the water. These nests are compact, handsome structures, formed of osiers, or reeds.

Every pair of swans has its own walk, or district, within which no other swans are permitted to build. Every pair has a keeper appointed to take the entire charge of them.

The keeper receives a small sum for every cygnet that is reared; and it is his duty to see that the nest is not disturbed. Sometimes he helps these lordly birds by building the foundation of the nest for them.

Once a year, in August, the swans are counted and marked. This is called "swan-upping," and a good time it used to be. In gayly decorated barges, with flags flying, and music playing, the city authorities came up the river to take up the swans and mark them.