ONE summer afternoon, when the grassy slope before the house was untidy with fallen leaves, and sticks, and withered flowers, I asked Garry to go and bring the rake that we might clear away the rubbish. So off he ran, and soon came back with an _iron_ rake. Now, if you have ever tried one, you will know that an iron rake is not nearly as good for this purpose as a wooden rake, as it is heavy, and the teeth are so sharp that they tear the roots of the grass. I used it for a while; but, in spite of all I could do, the teeth would catch the roots. At last Garry exclaimed, "Grandma, let me take it. I can make it all right." I gave it to him, and the dear little boy took it behind a log, and was very busy and quiet for several minutes. Then I called, "Come, Garry, I don't believe you can help it." "Oh!" said he, "you just wait a little, and you will see." And, to be sure, in a very short time he brought me the rake, with a hard green apple on each outer tooth, pushed on just so far that the other teeth would catch the litter of leaves and sticks without disturbing the grass. Wasn't that a bright idea for a little boy five and a half years old? M. CROSSING THE BROOK WITH HARRY. NOW, Harry, don't fear, I will carry you, dear: So keep very quiet and steady: The brook is not wide, Nor swift is the tide: Now, for it, my pet--are you ready? So over the stones we will go, With step very careful and slow. I never have slipped As o'er them I tripped; But then I had nothing to carry: Now I must take heed, The more haste, the worse speed; For I bear in my arms little Harry: So over the stones we will go, With step very careful and slow. Almost every bird That ever I heard, On the bank there seems now to be singing; And I smell the sweet hay From the field by the way; The wind all its odor is bringing: So over the stones we will go, With step very careful and slow. [Illustration] EMILY CARTER. A TRUE STORY OF A PARTRIDGE. I WONDER if any of the children who read "The Nursery" have ever been in the woods of Maine. There grow the tall old pine-trees, with tops which seem to touch the sky, and thick interlacing branches, making a very dark shade overhead. [Illustration] There, too, grow the fragrant cedar-trees, with their bright green boughs, and trunks so hard and stout; and, loveliest of all, the graceful maple, whose green leaves turn crimson and gold when autumn comes.