“He says that the scent of new shavings; Sickens him in the air, And the sound of their rustle underfoot _To-day_ he cannot bear. That year his birthday present Wasn’t a big jack-knife— I gave him something different; But the lesson was for life.” Then up spoke the little girlie: “Grandpa, ’twas some for me; I wanted a ribbon for kitty’s neck, And I almost took it, you see. Kitty is white and pretty, And the ribbon was pretty and blue, I wanted to do it, Grandpa, And nobody ever knew.” */ /* “But then, you see you didn’t, My darling little Say; You triumphed over temptation, And that is the very way. Now, little folks, ’tis our bed-time: Robbie and Martie, may you Both grow to be like uncle Will, As noble and as true.” E. B. S. */ THE PEACHES. I ONCE read a story that I want to tell the Pansies. A man brought some fine luscious peaches to his four boys and their mother. They had never seen any peaches before. That evening, he said, “Well, how did you like the peaches?” The elder answered, “Father, it was lovely; I kept the stone, and shall have a tree for myself some day.” The father was well pleased with his boy’s thoughtfulness. Then the youngest said: “I ate mine and threw away the stone; mother gave me half of hers.” Another spoke up: “I picked up the stone my brother threw away, and ate the kernel. I sold my peach, and will buy a dozen with the money when I go to town.” “And you, Edmund?” the father asked. “I took mine to George, who is ill with fever. I laid it on his bed, and came away.” “Now, who has done the best?” inquired the father. “Brother Edmund,” they all exclaimed, and his mother embraced him with tears in her eyes. From this fable you may learn many valuable lessons. The first is Prudence and Carefulness; for, if we all planted stones and trees, we should, like the Spaniards, have a great abundance of the good things of life; and we may likewise learn a lesson of unselfishness, and also be taught to have a kindly consideration for the sick, to whom little attentions are very gratifying. Each one of us could do something to cheer the many sick-rooms if we faithfully endeavored so to do, and always kept in mind the motto of “The Pansy Society.” Let us take the story of “The Peaches” for our lesson. /* RINGWOOD. */ MONTEAGLE. BY PANSY. CHAPTER I. [Illustration: “Y]ES,” said Mrs. Hammond, a little sigh in her voice as she spoke, “Mr. Hart is going with us; I don’t know how long he will stay. I’m afraid there is very little on Monteagle to hold him.” Two children sat on the extreme end of the broken steps; one was pale, thin, hollow-eyed and sorrowful. The other was rosy-cheeked, chubby, and dirty. The pale one was perhaps twelve years old; the other, somewhat younger.