Mary’s little boys and girls went cheerfully to their seats to look over their reading lesson. Soon she heard them read aloud, one by one, first the large scholars, and afterwards the smaller ones, who were just learning to read, and she made them spell every word as they went along. When the reading was over, they each repeated a Bible verse, which Mary required them to learn at home; and then Mary rang the little bell for a recess. There was great alacrity in putting up books and slates, and soon every boy and girl was ready for a long walk with Mary. Charles Linn ran off to the tool-house, and all the boys and girls after him, calling out:— “Now for my kite! Now for my kite!” When he attempted to take it out, he found that the bobs of paper, of which the tail was made, had been so twisted about and entangled in the string that he could not disengage them. The more he tried, the more entangled they became. The scholars were all round the kite, waiting to see how high it would fly; for Charles had told them it would fly away almost up to the clouds, until it looked no bigger than one of their balls. Mary had stopped to gather a bunch of dogwood blossoms, and now they all ran in search of her. They knew she could help Charles out of his trouble about the kite. They found her coming towards them; and she laid down her flowers and took the kite out of Charles’ hand, and showed him how to disengage the papers from the string; and then she showed him how to prevent such a mishap in future, by putting it away more carefully. Mary told Charles he must not attempt to fly his kite in the woods, for it would be caught in the tops of the trees. She led the way across a little stream of water, which Mary first, and her scholars after her, had to jump over, into a fine open meadow. Soon up went the kite, and the boys cried out, “Hurrah for the kite! Hurrah for Charles Linn’s wonderful kite!” It rose higher and higher; and Charles was so proud of having them to praise his kite, that when he had unwound the string to the very end, he thought he would like to have it rise higher still, and very foolishly let go the end of the string. Poor Charles! He had scarcely let it go when the kite began to come down, and presently it plumped into the water, near where they were standing. Charles looked as if he would cry—but Mary laughed and said— “My kite, my kite! I’ve lost my kite! Oh when I saw the steady flight With which it gained its lofty height, How could I know that letting go That paltry string would bring so low My pretty, buoyant, darling kite! My kite! My kite! how sad to think, It flew so high, so low to sink!”