One pleasant summer day Susan took the baby in her arms, Jane took Anna Maria in her arms, and all together, and all bareheaded, they took a stroll down the wharf. It was not a safe place for young children; and Susan ought to have known better than to take them there. They wandered about, enjoying the cool sea-air, and pretty soon stood on the very edge of the wharf, looking down into the water. Just then, by some accident (I don't know exactly how it happened), Anna Maria slipped out of Jane's arms, and fell overboard. Well, this was not so bad as if Jane herself had fallen over; but it was almost as bad to poor Jane. She burst into tears, and raised a cry of distress. There was her dear little Anna Maria in the water, beyond her reach, and she could do nothing to save her. Now there happened to be a smart boy, named Tom Williams, not far off. He heard Jane's outcry, and came running down the wharf to see what was the matter; and another bright boy, named Sam Brown, came with him. The two saw what the trouble was in a moment. [Illustration] They lay down on the wharf, and tried to reach Anna Maria. But it was of no use. Their arms were not long enough. Poor Jane's heart sank within her. She cried and sobbed, and was in more distress than ever. "Don't cry," said Tom. "Crying's of no use. Wait a minute: I know how to do it." And off he ran into the old junk shop. In a moment he came back, bringing a pair of tongs. "Now I'll show you!" said he. Down he lay again, with his bare feet sticking up, as you see in the picture, reached over the side of the wharf, took Anna Maria in the tongs, just as she was near floating under the wharf, and placed her, all wet and dripping, in Jane's arms. How happy the little girl was to get her darling safe back again! And how thankful she was to Tom, for coming to the rescue so bravely! Anna Maria soon got over the effects of her bath: she did not even catch cold. But I hope that both Jane and Susan will learn a lesson from her mishap, and not go so near the edge of the wharf another time. UNCLE SAM. THE YOUNG SHEEP-OWNER. SEVERAL years ago, on the Island of Nantucket, lived a little boy named Frank Simmons. His grandfather, with whom he was a great favorite, owned about two hundred sheep. Many other persons on the island owned sheep at that time; and there was a broad plain of open ground, over which all the flocks roamed in common. Every year, in the month of June, all the sheep were driven into a large enclosure near a pond, in which they were washed until their wool was white and clean. This was the preparation for shearing, or taking off their heavy coats of wool. Each separate flock was marked by a little cut made in the ears. The ears of one flock, for instance, were clipped at the ends; of another, notched at the sides; of another, marked by a slit. [Illustration]