The child began shyly to climb to the lady's knee, and was presently assisted there. "Such a bird!" sighed Margaret then, looking at the little one, thinking that by this time her glance could be borne. "It had yellow specks on its breast," illustrating with profuse and animated gestures, "and a long bill, and a glossy head with yellow feathers standing up on top, and yellow stripes on its wings," pointing toward her own shoulders, her glance following her finger. Then a break, and an exclamation of dismay, "What has become of my wings?" Dora reached up to look over the lady's shoulder, but saw only the back of a well-fitting bombazine gown. "I guess they's flied away," said the child in the voice of a anguid bobolink. "Then I'll tell you a story," said Margaret. "Once there was a lady who lived in a real mean place, and she didn't have a good time at all. She was just as lonesome and homesick as she could be. One day she brought home the photograph of a dear little girl, and that she liked. And she wished that she could see the real little girl, and that she could talk to her; but she had only the paper picture. {52} Well, by and by she went to live in a delightful house; and while she sat in her chamber, the door opened, and who should come in but the same dear child whose picture she had loved! Wasn't the lady glad then?" "Who was the little girl?" asked Dora with a shy, conscious look and smile. The answer was a shower of kisses all over her sweet face, and two tears that dropped unseen into her sunny hair. To Be Continued ---------- Comparative Morality Of Catholic And Protestant Countries.