A hundred wordless dreams went flitting through Amy's mind. I say wordless; for who shall say how we think; by what subtile art a thousand pictures pass swiftly on before one's fancy, all so lovely and beyond the power of language--I mean our language to describe. For this reason it is, I suppose, that when a great poet speaks, all the dumb world recognizes what he unfolds. It is for us to feel, for him to paint. Amy was a very serious girl for her twelve years, constant association with her mother and aunt had given her a taste for books which some might think dull for one so young, but she was always a dreamy child, from the time she used to lie in her baby crib and watch the round moon plowing through the feathery clouds, to this moment when she looks up at the blue sky spanning the boundless ocean. When Amy and her mother returned to the convent they found that dear Mother Evans had been called to New York. Mrs. Allen made a hasty preparation so as to return home on the same train, happy in being able to avail herself of her dear friend's company on the journey. Amy bade good-bye to all the household, thanking the Nuns for their kindness during her sojourn amongst them. BO'S SUMMER ADVENTURES. Bo too, spent a pleasant summer, he and several of his chums often went fishing, or hunting for wild flowers and curious stones, going into swampy places for specimens of plants, and sometimes coming home, as Hetty said, "Looking worse than Italian tramps." One day Walter Rhue and Ned Thornton came to spend the day, Bo begged Hetty for a basket of luncheon, and off they went to have a day of it in the woods. It was the last week of August, rather warm, and after such a long tramp, they wanted to find a cool place for their picnic. They reached a brook, which was usually so low that it could be crossed on some stepping stones. But today it was much swollen, owing to a heavy shower, which had fallen the preceding night, the water was three feet deep, and rushed angrily over the stepping stones. Walter and Ned took up poles, and rolling up their pants, were about to pick their way through the noisy current, but Bolax stopped them, and said: "Look here, fellows, I'll show you how to cross a brook." "You show me," retorted Ned, "I guess I can beat you at that business any time." "I guess you can't," rejoined Bo, "just wait a minute and see how I do it." He then stepped upon an old log on the bank of the brook, and grasping the drooping branches of a large tree, which grew on the opposite side, prepared to swing himself across. He pulled the branch as far toward himself as possible, and then leaped forward, shouting in boastful tones: "This is the way to cross a----" Alas! For Bo and his boasting. The branch broke and his weight tore it from the tree, so, instead of swinging across, he fell with a tremendous splash into the water.