Katy slept in a little room that opened into grandma's. In the middle of the night she heard a noise and waked up. The moon was shining into the room, and it was almost as light as day. She heard something which sounded like "Katy-did-it! Katy-did-it! Katy-did-it!" She pulled the sheet over her head to shut out the noise; but still she heard the singing, "Katy-did-it!" "They mean me," said Katy. "I wish they would stop." But they only sang the louder. Katy could stand it no longer. She jumped out of bed and ran into grandma's room, crying, "O grandma, grandma, Katy did it!" Grandma jumped up, saying, "Why, child! what's the matter?" "O grandma," sobbed Katy, "Tom did not do it; Katy did it." "Did what?" asked grandma. "I broke the vase," replied Katy, "and then let you think Tom did it." Then Katy told grandma how the Katy-dids would not let her sleep till she had told her all about it. Grandma said she hoped Katy would never be afraid again to say "Katy did it," when she had done wrong. I think, after that, she never was. AUNT FANNY. PULL THE WEEDS. PULL the weeds, my little maid, That's good work to do; Better drop the ugly spade,-- It's too big for you. In the onion bed, you see, Weeds with onions don't agree; Pull the weeds and set them free, Onions then will grow. [Illustration] Do you want to help me, dear, Very, very much? Careful walk along right here, And you must not touch; You must learn to keep the row; Pull the weeds where'er they grow; Soon you'll learn to use the hoe, Rake, and spade, and such. M. E. McKEE. [Illustration: THISTLE DOWN. Words by JENNIE JOY.[A] Music by T. CRAMPTON VOICE. 1. "Dear little Fly-a-way, may I inquire, Whither so fast you are going? See not before you, the creek and the mire, What if the wind should stop blowing, You cannot curb in the windsteeds; and tho' Firm on their necks you're now lying, If they should pause once, away you would go Into the mud and lie dying. 2. "Wee, winsome trouble-heart, can you not see, Home on these windsteeds I'm going? There to sleep sweetly, 'till Spring calls to me? Then a fair flow'r I'll be growing, Tho' but a weak little waif I appear, Purposes wise I'm fulfiling, Nothing that God rules is hopeless, my dear, Speed then winds, blow if you're willing."] FOOTNOTE: [A] Composed for "Our little Ones." DO NOT FORGET [Illustration] THAT THE TRAVELERS OF HARTFORD, CONN., Is the LARGEST ACCIDENT COMPANY IN THE WORLD. That it is the ONLY LARGE ONE in AMERICA. That it pays policy-holders =$4,000 a Day= for Losses by Death and Disabling Injury. That it has paid =$10,500,000= to policy-holders since 1864.