As soon as mamma's hands were at liberty, she thought she would just look in and see what kept the darling so quiet. "All right," indeed! What a spectacle she beheld! On the bricks before the fire, her pretty white skirts much too near the ashes, sat Baby Lila, having a glorious time. She had found her dear little plate empty; but the brown pitcher was full enough. She had dropped the plate, dipped the feather-duster into the yeast, and proceeded to spread it about, on her clean clothes, on the bricks, on the floor, everywhere. So, when mamma opened the door, she saw this wee daughter besmeared from head to foot, the yeast dripping over her head and face as she held the duster aloft in both hands. Just then papa came in by another door. "O John! do you see this child! What if she had put the duster into the fire instead of the yeast!" Mamma shuddered as she took little Lila into her lap for another bath and change of clothes. Papa standing by said,-- "You don't seem to mind having all that to do again." "Indeed I don't. To think how near she was to that fire! I can never be thankful enough that she dusted the yeast instead of the coals. But how do you suppose she ever got over there?" S. D. L. H. THE FOX AND THE CROW. A CROW, one day, stole a nice bit of cheese, And flew up in a tree to eat it at her ease. A sly young Fox, who was passing below, Saw her as she flew, and he said, "Oh, ho! Madam Crow." "What a fine bird you are, with your feathers so gay! As brilliant as the rainbow, and fairer than the day. If your voice is as sweet as your form would show, Then sing me a song: pray don't say 'No,' Madam Crow." The crow began her song, when down fell the cheese: The fox sprang and caught it as quickly as you please; And as he trotted off, he said, "Oh, ho! That is just what I wanted. I'll go, Madam Crow." ANNIE MOORE. [Illustration: DRAWING-LESSON.] [Illustration] THE SWALLOWS AND THE ROBIN. THE woods were showing autumn tints Of crimson and of gold; The sunny days were growing short, The evenings long and cold: So the swallows held a parliament, And voted it was time To bid farewell to northern skies, And seek a warmer clime. Southward with glad and rapid flight They flew for many a mile, Till in a quiet woodland glen They stopped to rest a while: A streamlet rippled in the dell; And on a hawthorn-tree A robin-redbreast sat alone, And carolled merrily.