But suddenly, from this position, she leaped backward with the mad energy of a frightened colt. Her face was in this instant turned to a grey, featureless thing of horror. A yell, wild and hoarse as a brute-cry, burst from her. "Daddie!" She flung herself to a place near the door, where she remained, crouching, her eyes staring at the motionless figure, spattered by the quivering flashes from the fire. Her arms extended, and her frantic fingers at once besought and repelled. There was in them an expression of eagerness to caress and an expression of the most intense loathing. And the girl's hair that had been a splendour, was in these moments changed to a disordered mass that hung and swayed in witchlike fashion. Again, a terrible cry burst from her. It was more than the shriek of agony--it was directed, personal, addressed to him in the chair, the first word of a tragic conversation with the dead. It seemed that when she had put her arm about its neck, she had jostled the corpse in such a way, that now she and it were face to face. The attitude expressed an intention of arising from the table. The eyes, fixed upon hers, were filled with an unspeakable hatred. * * * * * The cries of the girl aroused thunders in the tenement. There was a loud slamming of doors, and presently there was a roar of feet upon the boards of the stairway. Voices rang out sharply. "What is it?" "What's th' matter?" "He's killin' her!" "Slug 'im with anythin' yeh kin lay hold of, Jack." But over all this came the shrill shrewish tones of a woman. "Ah, th' damned ol' fool, he's drivin' 'er inteh th' street--that's what he's doin.' He's drivin' 'er inteh th' street." HOW THE DONKEY LIFTED THE HILLS. Many people suppose that the donkey is lazy. This is a great mistake. It is his pride. Years ago, there was nobody quite so fine as the donkey. He was a great swell in those times. No one could express an opinion of anything without the donkey showing where he was in it. No one could mention the name of an important personage without the donkey declaring how well he knew him. The donkey was, above all things, a proud and aristocratic beast. One day a party of animals were discussing one thing and another, until finally the conversation drifted around to mythology. "I have always admired that giant, Atlas," observed the ox in the course of the conversation. "It was amazing how he could carry things." "Oh, yes, Atlas," said the donkey, "I knew him very well. I once met a man and we got talking of Atlas. I expressed my admiration for the giant and my desire to meet him some day, if possible. Whereupon the man said there was nothing quite so easy. He was sure that his dear friend, Atlas, would be happy to meet so charming a donkey. Was I at leisure next Monday? Well, then, could I dine with him upon that date? So, you see, it was all arranged. I found Atlas to be a very pleasant fellow."