She was soon in the farmyard, and after feeding the little things with meal and water,--hasty-pudding she called it,--she seemed to long so to pet them, that her kind grandmother said, "Well, dear, hold up your apron, and I will put some of the chickens in; but you must handle them very gently." Edith was delighted, and begged to carry them into the house for mamma to see. Old mother-hen, who was busy scratching for the rest of her brood, did not at first notice what was going on. But, when she saw Edith walking off with some of her darlings, she began to spread her wings, and puff out her feathers, and scold in hen fashion. Then the tall old rooster straightened himself up and looked down at her, as much as to say, "What a goose you are to make such a fuss! The little girl will bring your chicks back all safe." And so she did; and the next day, when she picked them up and petted them again, Mrs. Hen did not say a word, but seemed quite pleased and proud. AUNT SUSAN. [Illustration] [Illustration] HOW THE OLD SPARROW HELPED THE YOUNG ONE. AN unfledged sparrow, not strong enough to fly far, had fallen into the area of a city basement. The poor little bird was wasting its strength in vain attempts to get out of its prison, while its mother looked down in alarm, and tried her best to cheer and aid her child. At last the old bird flew away. "Can it be," I thought, "that she is going to desert her little one?" No indeed! She had only hit upon a new plan. Back she soon came with a stout straw in her beak. Perching on an iron bar which crossed the area about a foot below the level of the street, she passed one end of the straw to the little captive below. The nestling took the offered straw in its beak and clung to it, while the mother, holding fast to the other end, flew up to the street. Thus, with some aid from its own wings, the little bird was able to gain a foothold on the iron bar. From this point, one more pull by the old bird helped it to reach the pavement, where it fluttered away with its delighted mother. UNCLE CHARLES. HOME, SWEET HOME. "HOW real jolly it seems to be back in our own parlor again!" said Willie Morton, making a flying leap over an ottoman as he spoke. With his elder brother he had been away at school for a year, while his mother and sisters were travelling abroad. This was the first evening that they were all together again. "Come, sister Annie," Willie continued, "sing 'Home, sweet home!' Charlie can play it on the flute." So Annie took her place at the piano; their mother seated herself to listen, with little Amy on her lap; and Charlie produced his flute. They were soon singing the old familiar song with all their hearts, Willie's voice loudest of all.