Nevertheless, he dispatched messengers without number here and there, and looked anxiously out into the streets for that dear little yellow head he so loved. It was nearly noon when he saw it--the bright sun glaring down on the tired little face under the sailor hat. He was going to be very stern as he lifted his naughty child from the saddle, but she looked so repentant, putting up her quivering lips for a forgiving kiss, that somehow his anger fled away and he gave her the pardoning caress. The two boys were sent away happy, with a generous baksheesh or present, and the next day Kitty's father sought out the kind-hearted jewel merchant and bought many a gem from his choice collection. Among them was a locket for Kitty, in which he then placed his own and her mother's picture. "Kitty," he said, gravely, as he hung the pretty thing about her neck, "when you are tempted to do wrong, open this locket, and think how it will pain two hearts that love you." "Papa," said the repentant Kitty, "I never will run away again." And she kept her word. So it came to pass that our little heroine lost her evil propensity in the Turkish bazaar at Cairo. "I'M A LITTLE STORY." BY MARGARET EYTINGE. [Illustration] You'd never guess what 't was I found One morning in my basket; Oh! such a precious, precious gem For such a funny casket. Gem, did I say? A wealth of gems: Sweet eyes of sapphire brightness, And, 'twixt two lips of coral red, Pearls dazzling in their whiteness. And gold was there on waving hair, And lilies too, and roses On rounded cheeks, and dimpled chin And cunningest of noses. "In here, mamma," the darling cried. "Look! I'm a little story; The one you didn't like, you know-- 'Prince Bee and Morning Glory.' "And Rover, he's a jingle, torn 'Cause he went wrong--poor Rover! But _I_'m real pretty. Wont you take Me out and write me over?" I kissed the laughing eyes and mouth. "My pet, you need not ask it; No story sweet as you must stay In mamma's old waste-basket!" EASTER IN GERMANY. BY F. E. CORNE. "Oh, look! look! all those pretty little Easter things in the window already!" exclaimed my little sister one day, as we passed one of the largest confectionery stores in Stuttgart; and, true enough, though Lent was but half over, there they were, a pretty show. Eggs, of course, in quantities and of all sizes, from that of an ostrich to a humming bird's, made of chocolate or of sugar, and gayly decorated with little ribbons and pictures. Then there were fat little unfledged chickens, some just emerging from their shells, some not an inch long, and others large as life; pure white lambs, with ribbons and bells round their necks; paste-eggs, with holes at the ends, and, looking through, behold, a panorama inside! and eggs with roses on one side, which, when blown upon, emit a musical sound.