This dog met an untimely death through the cruelty of a man, who, on account of some trivial annoyance, put an end to poor Meph's career. The man might have learned a lesson of kindness from the little creature he wantonly murdered. A RECIPE. BY M. A. L. [Illustration] 'Pothecary, 'pothecary, living in the rose, Tell us how to make the scent that everybody knows. "A penny's worth of nectar; a dozen drops of dew; A little compound sunshine that's slowly filtered through; A sun-glass made of diamond, and then--the mixing done-- Set out a little flask of it to simmer in the sun." 'Pothecary, 'pothecary, is there nothing more? "Yes, it taketh industry to make the summer's store. So, my lad and lady, run off now and play;-- This, like every day in June, is my busy day." RIDDLES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLKS. Who knows what a riddle is? A riddle is something to be guessed. Well, here is a riddle in a picture, all about pretty painted bridges. [Illustration: Pretty painted bridges, Baby cannot get 'em. Never mind the shower, Water cannot wet 'em.] Who can guess it? The bridges are not real bridges, and they are not really painted,--yet every summer we see them. Now, what kind of bridges are they? Nobody over seven years of age need try to guess these riddles. * * * * * Now you shall have another riddle,--this time about sheep, but they are not the real sheep shown in the picture. On almost any sunny day you can see the kind of sheep that this riddle means. Many of these riddle sheep are white as snow, and they keep moving, moving, when the wind blows. Did you ever see them? Perhaps if you look out of your window now you may see some of the same sort. But it must be at noon time, or in the morning when the sky is blue, or when you wake up in the night and see the moon softly stealing in and out among them. Do not look for them when it is time for little folk to say "good-night!" Then these sheep sometimes change into bright red and yellow banners stretching across the sky and floating over the place where the sun is going to sleep. [Illustration: White sheep, white sheep, On a blue hill. When the wind stops You all stand still. When the wind blows You walk away slow. White sheep, white sheep, Where do you go?] * * * * * And now comes the very last riddle,--about Dormio Hill. What can the white ground of Dormio Hill be? It is in the land of Nod, and if you wish to find it, I do believe the Sand-man can take you to the very spot. And who is the Sand-man? Ah, that is another riddle which Mamma can answer for you. [Illustration: On Dormio Hill the ground is white And nobody's there except at night To Dormio Hill mamma will go And carry the baby whether or no.] [Illustration] JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT. We will open the meeting this month, my hearers, with "A Bumble Grumble" sent to you by my friend Harold W. Raymond.