"A table?" asked Mary. "I apprenticed my daughter to a milliner, and the first thing she sold was a yard of R. R." "Red ribbon?" added Gertrude. "I apprenticed my son to a grocer, and the first thing he sold was a B. of R." "Box of raisins?" inquired Cornelia. "I apprenticed my son to a cabinet-maker, and the first thing he sold was a S." "Sofa?" said Tom. "I apprenticed my daughter to a dry-goods store, and the first thing she sold was ten yards of L." "Lace?" asked Ellen. "No--guess again." "Linen? I see that's right. I apprenticed my son to a tinman, and the first thing he sold was a N. G." "Nutmeg-grater?" inquired George. "Now, I apprenticed my son to a hardware man, and the first thing he sold was a P. of S." "Pair of skates?" said Amy. "I apprenticed my son to a book-store, and the first thing he sold was a P. B." "Prayer-book? I apprenticed my daughter to a dressmaker, and the first thing she made was a V. M." "Velvet mantilla?" And so the game proceeded, the questions and answers being tossed from one to another, like ball or shuttlecock, so that the general interest was kept up. "I think it high time we had our daily story," said Amy. "So do I," replied her uncle; "and I commission you to tell it." "I? oh no, uncle, I'm too young. I think the older ones should have the monopoly of that trade--I wasn't apprenticed to it." "Not at all--you are of suitable age to be apprenticed now, so you may consider the bargain struck. Begin, my little Amy, and if you break down in the middle of your tale, I'll promise to finish it myself." "Very well, uncle; I feel quite tempted to fail, to inveigle you into a sensible termination to a foolish story. We often invent tales in the interval at school, and I'll give you one that my schoolmates like. It is called The Rose of Hesperus; A FAIRY TALE. Every one has heard of the Garden of Hesperus, famous in all ancient times for its exquisite beauty. Its golden fruit, more precious by far than the fleece of Jason, in search of which heroes perilled their lives on board the good ship Argo, was watched by a terrible dragon, whose eyes were never sealed by slumber. A hundred heads belonged to the monster, a hundred flames of fire issued from his numerous throats, and a hundred voices resounded threats against the audacious being who should invade his province. Hercules alone, of all the children of men, was able to overcome him: but although he then expired, the next rising sun again beheld him full of life and vigor. The dragons of earth are never annihilated. Each generation has the same work to perform, has its monsters to conquer; and this it is that makes the noble heroes whom we all delight to praise.