better swimmer, rushed into the whirl and pulled him out to the shore. Poor little fellow! he was almost gone, for he was insensible, and it was some time before he breathed freely again. He was carried home--to that dear home which came so near being made desolate--and with deep penitence did he confess his fault and beg for pardon. His last thoughts when he was drowning (as he thought) were, "I have disobeyed my mother! It will break my poor mother's heart!" Children have a great deal of curiosity, and perhaps you will ask, "how did grandma know so much about grandpa when he was a little boy? Was she a little girl then, and did she live in St. Louis, too?" No, my children, when my parents moved to St. Louis I was a young lady and grandpa was a young gentleman. We soon became acquainted, however, and after awhile we were married, and then I took a strange fancy to learn all about him from the time he was a little baby in his mother's arms; and when I ventured to ask his mother a few questions about him, I found it pleased her so much that I was encouraged to ask many more. And now it seems to me I have known grandpa always, and was with him when he used to go with his mamma and little brothers and sisters into the country, with a company of the neighbors, all in little French carts, to gather strawberries and blackberries, which grew in abundance in Lucas Place, Chouteau avenue, and all about, where now are elegant mansions and paved streets. It was then a prairie, with clumps of trees here and there, springs of water and sweet wild flowers. He told me himself about his frolics with the French boys (many of whom were his earliest and truest friends), how they used to have match-eating pancake parties, in the day of the pancake festival in the Catholic Church; and about his youthful gallantries, and how desperately in love he was once with a very smart, pretty creole girl, and how the discovery of "a hole in her stocking" drove the little god of love from his breast.