Arnold Guyot Cameron, S.E.S., O.C. Turner, Louise G. Hinsdale, and the partners E.K.S. and M.G.V. guessed the right word, which is "Reflection"; and, of course, it needed some "reflection" to find it out. The lady in the picture is absorbed in "reflection" upon something she has been reading in her book; but, besides this, the water is represented as sending back a "reflection" of nearly every other object in the picture. Several others of your youngsters wrote, but they were not so fortunate in their attempts. "Mignon" suggests the word "Heads," for the reason that the guessing has given employment to many heads. John F. Wyatt thinks that "Beautiful" is the word. Alfred Whitman, C.H. Payne, and Nellie Emerson, though writing from three places far apart, agree in giving the word "Reverie" as their notion of the right one. George A. Mitchell thinks it is "Study"; Arthur W. James guesses "Meditation"; and Hallie quietly hints "Calm." "P.," however, believes that the word is "Misrepresented," which he inclines to write, "Miss represented." But Nathalie B. Conkling puts forward the exclamation "Alas!" as the proper solution, spelling it "A lass." Now, puns are not always good wit, and these two are not puns of the best kind; but they, as well as the other guesses, show that your chicks have lively minds, able to see a thing from more than one point of view, even although their conjectures do not hit the very center of the mark in every instance. I am much obliged to them all for their letters, and to you, dear Jack, for your kindness.--Sincerely your friend, THE LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM. "FIDDLE-DIDDLE-DEE!" Little Davie ran through the garden,--a great slice of bread and butter in one hand, and his spelling-book in the other. He was going to study his lesson for to-morrow. You could not imagine a prettier spot than Davie's "study," as he called it. It was under a great oak-tree, that stood at the edge of a small wood. The little boy sat down on one of the roots and opened his book. [Illustration: The Little Brown Wren.] "But first," thought he, "I'll finish my bread and butter." So he let his book drop, and, as he ate, he began to sing a little song with which his mother sometimes put the baby to sleep. This is the way the song began: "I bought a bird, and my bird pleased me; I tied my bird behind a tree; Bird said----" "Fiddle-diddle-dee!" sang something, or somebody, behind the oak. Davie looked a little frightened, for that was just what he was about to sing in his song. But he jumped up and ran around to the other side of the tree. And there was a little brown wren, and it had a little golden thread around its neck, and the thread was tied to a root of the big tree. "Hello!" said Davie, "was that you?"