She asked what was the matter. The child said her mother had beaten her because she asked for some breakfast, and she was so hungry she could not help crying. “Well,” said the other child, placing the ticket in her hand, “take this, and get a good tea. I’ve had no breakfast either, but my mother never beats me.” She then passed on, leaving the ticket in the hand of the astonished child. ------------------------------------ HOW A SNAKE CAME TO GRIEF. ------------------ THE bull snake, which is quite common on the Pacific coast, grows sometimes to be quite large, but it is entirely harmless to human beings. [Illustration] A Californian, being something of a naturalist, set himself to work to tame one of these snakes and was able to teach Slippery Dick—the name he gave his strange pet—many tricks. He taught him to come at call, to coil up, to wave his folds about in imitation of dancing, and many other tricks. He would coil up on the table, his head in the center of the coil, elevated about six inches in the air. The gentleman would place the handle of a small fan in his mouth, and then the snake would gently wave the fan to and fro, and thus keep the flies from his master’s face. He was as good as a cat to keep the old log house free from mice. He often brought in ten or twelve in a day. His fondness for mice was his ruin. It happened in this way: One day the gentleman missed Slippery Dick, and though he hunted and called all day, he could not find any trace of his pet. About a week after his disappearance, having occasion to explore the loft of the cabin in which he lived, he came across the remains of his old friend. Apparently he had been more mouse-hungry than usual, and in his haste to satisfy his appetite had swallowed a live mouse, which had gnawed its way through the snake’s body, thus causing his death. ------------------------------------ [Illustration] IN THE PEW. ------------------ IN the morn of the holy Sabbath I like in the church to see The dear little children clustered, Worshiping there with me. I am sure that the gentle pastor, Whose words are like summer dew, Is cheered as he gazes over The dear little heads in the pew. Faces earnest and thoughtful, Innocent, grave, and sweet, They look in the congregation Like lilies among the wheat. And I think that the tender Master, Whose mercies are ever new, Has a special benediction For dear little heads in the pew. ------------------------------------