Immediately the great gate turned noiselessly on its hinges, and when it closed again the youth had entered what proved to be a busy city, with people of all descriptions hurrying along the streets. Two things were most noticeable: there was no one amid all the throng who did not carry a burden of some kind, and there was not one who had not something peculiar to himself which was an annoyance to all whom he met. “Ah ha!” cried the youth, “I see how it is. If one wants to get through this crowd in any comfort he must use a sharp tongue, and elbows or fists to the best advantage.” So saying, he set out again upon his way, but was soon met by a band of merry-makers, who seemed inclined to take up most of the path. “Now for it!” said the youth to himself, and, setting his arms akimbo he attempted to push his way among them. But it was not without several hard blows that he escaped and passed on, so perfectly did the company imitate his manner and attempt to bar his way. The next to claim his attention was a woman carrying a heavy basket—and more especially as the basket was set around with thorns. “Let me but escape their sharp points,” cried the youth, “and I care little how hard they press her.” The result of the encounter was some scratches to both travellers, which might have been saved if each had sought to spare his neighbor pain. Thus it went from day to-day, sometimes with sharp words, occasionally with blows, but oftener a slight push from one passer to the other, until at last we must leave the youth to pursue his hopeless journey, while we return to the village whence he had set out. HAZLETT. CAUSE FOR COMPLAINT. “I DON’T like grandma at all,” said Fred, “I don’t like grandma at all,” And he drew his face in a queer grimace; The tears were ready to fall, As he gave his kitten a loving hug, And disturbed her nap on the soft, warm rug. “Why, what has your grandma done?” I asked, “To trouble the little boy? O what has she done, the cruel one, To scatter the smiles of joy?” Through quivering lips the answer came, “She—called—my—kitty—a—horrid—name.” “She did? are you sure?” and I kissed the tears Away from the eyelids wet. “I can scarce believe that grandma would grieve The feelings of either pet. What did she say?” “Boo-hoo!” cried Fred, “She—called—my—kitty—a—_quadruped_!” —_Selected._ MOZART. PART I.