Grandfather had a horse named Pete, who would walk out of his stall every morning, go to the well, take the pole, by which the bucket was attached to the well-sweep, between his teeth, and thus pull up the bucket until it rested on the shelf made for it. Then old Pete would drink the water which he had taken so much pains to get. But one of my uncles had a horse even more knowing than old Pete. This horse was named Whitey. Every Sunday morning, when the church-bell rang, Uncle George would lead Whitey out of his stall, harness him, drive him to church, and tie him in a certain shed, where he would stand quietly till church was done. After a while, Whitey grew so used to this weekly performance, that, when the bells rang, he would walk out of his stall, and wait to be harnessed. One Sunday morning, Old Whitey, on hearing the bells, walked out of his stall as usual, and patiently waited for Uncle George. But it happened that uncle was sick that morning, and none of the family felt like going to church. I do not really know what Whitey's thoughts were; but I have no doubt that they were something like this: "Well, well! I guess my master is not going to church this morning; but that is no reason why I should not go. I must go now, or I shall be late." Whitey had waited so long, that he was rather late; but he jogged steadily along to his post in the shed, and there took his stand, as usual. As soon as old Mr. Lane, who sat in one of the back-pews and always came out of church before anybody else, appeared at the door, Whitey started for home. At the door of the house he was greeted by several members of the family, who had just discovered his absence, and who learned the next day, from Mr. Lane, that old Whitey had merely been attending strictly to his church-duties. K. H. S. FOR ETHEL. "GOOD-BY! little Ethel, good-by!" says the Light; For what does my sleepy one need but the night?-- The soft quiet night, like a great downy wing, To shelter the wee ones, too tired to sing. Good-by till the dawning: Some bright star will keep Its watch o'er your pillow When you are asleep! "Good-by, little Ethel," so many things say,-- The wind, that has played in the grasses all day, The pretty red squirrels you never can catch, And the kitten, that tries all your playthings to snatch. When bird, bee, and blossom Their bright eyes must close, Is Ethel awake? Go to sleep like a rose. CHARLOTTE M. PACKARD. [Illustration] BABY'S EXPLOIT. IN the first place baby had her bath. Such a time! Mamma talked as fast and as funny as could be; and the baby crowed and kicked as if she understood every word.