Off went the owl like a thistle-down puff, Ruffled-up, rolled in a ball! Off went the bat like a candle-snuff, Shuffled-up, toes and all! Off went the twig and off went the tree, Scurrying down to the ground! Nothing was left, save the bumble-bee, Worrying thus to be found; Yet snug as a bug in the roots of the tree, Where he grumbled; “What a catastrophe! I was simply thunder-struck!” said he. “And I’m very sure I prefer the glare Of the hottest day to that whirling air! Such a draught! I hope I have not caught cold! But I know I was over and over rolled. Am I really safe and sound?” [Illustration] [Illustration] Ho! ho! quoth a jolly old knight, Pray what is the meaning of Fright? But his friends only smile For they know all the while He is sadly addicted to— Flight. THE NOTIONAL NIGHTINGALE. BY A. R. WELLS. [Illustration] King Hubert, he went to the forest in state, In glitter and gold, on a sun-shiny day, And commanded his train in the shadow to wait, While a herald proclaimed in the following way: “His Imperial Majesty, Hubert the Second, Since the nightingale’s voice is quite musical reckoned, Is graciously pleased, as the day seems too long, To command that the nightingale sing him a song!” The court all stood waiting for what might befall; But somehow, no nightingale answered the call. NAN’S REVOLT. BY ROSE LATTIMORE ALLING. CHAPTER III. For two days following that bright morning in September, the skies dropped discouragement on all enthusiasms, and dampened any ardor for aggressive change. What feminine heart has the courage to go forth gloriously to conquer or to die—in overshoes and a gossamer? In the meantime, the girls had not met again, but new thoughts sprouted in their brains, while feeble plans budded and dropped unfruitful from the bough. Nan lighted a fire in the grate in her room, and re-read and burned package upon package of old letters, tossing away with special vigor all those tied with that badge of sentimental girlhood—a blue ribbon. Why always blue? “There!” she exclaimed, as the last mouse-colored fragment fluttered up the chimney; “there is nothing like beginning again at the foundation, in every way.” This heroic sacrifice completed, she sewed on some loose shoe-buttons with as much vigor as though she contemplated setting out on foot to seek her fortune. After that, she pressed her forehead against the window-pane, and wished drearily that it would stop raining. Evelyn, after an hour’s interview with her mother, began to rip up an old dress, though she was evidently busied also with serious thoughts.