I want to tell my little readers that Albert has a fawn which he calls his own and pets and caresses. It has a blue ribbon around its neck with a little bell attached, and we all laugh to see it beat a tattoo with its little foot while it laps milk from a saucer. Albert says, "It's ten times more beautiful, and a hundred times dearer than papa wrote about." CHARLES T. JEROME. [Illustration] [Illustration] HOW THE SHEEP FOUND BO-PEEP. LITTLE Bo-peep awoke from her sleep; Her eyes opened wide and wider; For she found herself seated on the grass With an old sheep standing beside her. "Little Bo-peep," said the good old sheep, "How glad I am that we've found you! Here we are--rams and sheep and lambs-- All flocking up around you." "You blessed sheep," said little Bo-peep, "I've been worried to death about you." "We've been searching for you," said the good old sheep: "We wouldn't go home without you." DORA BURNSIDE. [Illustration] THE LITTLE FLOWER-GIRL. HELEN GRAHAM was spending the winter with her mother in Nice. This is a charming place in the south of France, on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea, and their home there was in a pretty villa. One morning, as Helen was watering and trimming her plants at the open window,--for the air is warm and pleasant in Nice, even in winter,--she heard a soft voice calling just underneath, "_Mademoiselle, achetez mes fleurs, s'il vous plait?_" In English this means, "Please buy my flowers, miss?" Helen looked down, and there stood a little barefooted, dark-eyed girl, a good deal smaller than herself, holding up a bunch of roses and violets. Her face was so sweet and smiling, that Helen could not refuse her: so she said in French, "How much are they, little girl?" "_Dix centimes seulement_" ("only two cents"), she replied. [Illustration] "Come round to the door, and I will buy them," said Helen. The girl ran quickly to the door. When Helen learned from her that her mother was very poor, she gave her more than the price of her flowers; and the little girl's face fairly beamed with delight when she went away. IDA FAY. MABEL AND THE BUST. UPON the floor our little Mabel sits, Gazing, with wonder and delight, Upon a marble bust. She cons it o'er, With visage keen and bright, Till cautiously upon the stone she lays Her dimpled fingers white. [Illustration] A tiny frown drives all the smiles away. She scans the image with a rueful stare, Then turning from it with a quivering lip, The fickle baby wails in deep despair. "What is it that disturbs my little pet?" _She cannot pull his hair!_ W. G. [Illustration] FEEDING THE DUCKS.