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some of them did not dash against and loose from its fastenings the cord by which their companion was bound. But such was not the case, for there he still hung, as adroitly suspended between heaven and earth as was ever human culprit, and with only this difference, that the bird was caught by the leg and swayed to and fro, head downwards.

It appeared at times as though the little prisoner must free himself by his own exertions, for he didn't die 'easy.' That is, he didn't get discouraged and sink down inanely, without making an effort for his own release. Every little while he sprang wildly into the air, where he fluttered, and turned, and gyrated with an energy that deserved success; but, alas! it was only to realize anew his helplessness, for he never got beyond the length of the cruel cord that held him. At such times his feathered friends came nearer, as though to encourage or help him, and their whole manner and speech-for it was speech, bird language-could easily be interpreted into alternate coaxing and scolding. At last his strength seemed wholly exhausted. The spasmodic efforts ceased, and the poor thing only swung listlessly to and fro at the end of his halter. Then his friends scattered and went farther away, as if they said, 'Well, if you give up, there's no use in our trying. We are very sorry for you, but staying here can do you no good, and we have each our own affairs to see to, and really,' &c. But, of course, they didn't say any such thing, for they were only birds, and such thoughts would never enter a bird's head any way.

While we have been explaining, Freddie and his mother had essayed to drag a heavy ladder that stood against a mow in the barn to the outside, and place it in position for their purpose. With much exertion the first part was accomplished, but their united strength failed to raise even one end more than a few feet from the ground, and they stood ruefully contemplating their failure. One of them-it must be confessed, though I need not confess which-half-angry that so much time and labour had been spent for naught. She was about to bid this youngest, and just now most troublesome scion of her house, to run for the 'fish-pole,' when she remembered to have seen an elder, who should have been named Izaak Walton, go trudging off two hours before with that article on his shoulder, in the direction of the Trout Brook.'

Just then, unluckily, came thoughts of the clear-starching she had dropped at Freddie's first frantic summons, all the things getting

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bone-dry,' and the fire burning out under the irons, which were, doubtless, at this moment 'just right;' and, though not by any means a cruel or a heartless woman, the claims of the suffering animal were, for a moment forgotten in those of the prudent housewife, and she said, with a lightness she did not feel

'Never mind, Fred. The fellow's got into a scrape; let him get out. There's no way to help him, as I see, and I can't bother any longer.'

Again that look of deep reproach gathered in the eyes and over the face of the infant teacher, but he spoke no word. The mother gazed at him an instant and turned. There was no flinching now, no thought of retreating. Clear-starching nor anything else had power to divert her mind from its purpose; which was to help Freddie out with his plan of rescuing the imprisoned bird.

The first thing her searching eye fell upon was a clump of pole beans standing a little way out in the garden. Advancing, she wrenched from its place the tallest stake-stripped, with one fell stroke, and without the slightest compunction, the tender, clinging vine, with its emerald leaves and great clusters of crimson and white blossoms, that a moment before were swaying and nodding in the summer breeze— and stalked back to where Freddie stood, the look of intense anxiety on his face relieved a little by the gleam of admiration he was beginning to feel for the prowess of his mother.

Now, if this were not an "ower true tale" in every particular, save the names, I could draw it to a speedy close just here; but as it is, I am driven to add that the pole, not having been cut with a view to any such emergency as finishing a story or rescuing a bird, was found, even when the mother stood on a chair, to be about a foot tco short. The barn was a modern two-story affair, and this it was, perhaps, that made Freddie, who would not for the world have cast any slight on his mother and the means she was so manfully using, to suggest that "the eaves were too high up." Ah! Freddie, of how many failures is this the cause! No fault of ours. We struggle, and try, and reach, but-things are too high up."

"Bring me the clothes-pole," said Mrs. Finch, without descending from her self-erected pedestal, which was tipping and swaying in a manner that would have been most encouraging at a spiritual seance, but which threatened now something disastrous if two of the chair legs did not relinquish their attempts at boring Artesian wells in the

soft soil. The clothes-pole was brought, and it was, doubtless, owing to the fact that it came so near reaching the desired point, that a desperate thrust was made, when, the equilibrium being lost, instrument, operator, pedestal, and all-save the bird-came tumbling ignominiously earthward.

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Freddie turned aghast at this new calamity. With a faint cry he rushed forward, extending both tiny hands to help "poor mamma to her footing. But when she laughed, assuring him she wasn't hurt a bit, he laughed too, and drawing from his pocket a tiny "hankus "of a most dubious shade, by the way-wiped vigorously her soiled hands, and said, comfortingly, 'Never mind.'

'Now, Freddie, bring me some light sticks,' said Mamma, undauntedly.

Poising herself this time on a pile of loose boards, she aimed carefully at the hateful horse-hair. But David's mantle (he of the five smooth stones) never fell on this little woman's shoulders, and the poor bird was in far greater danger of having its brains knocked out than it had previously been of-strangulation by the leg.

It was a bad case. A wicked wish crossed the mother's mind to the effect that the creature would die, ' and make an end on't,' but so far from that being probable, he had just been uttering some very strong protests against the missile mode of treatment, and had succeeded by his flutterings and screamings in calling back most of his old friends and their families, who squeaked and dived around the head of the devoted lady till she was fain to beat a retreat in order to insure her own safety.

Just here Freddie's genius rose triumphant. Throwing up his arms he gave a spring like a frog, crying, 'The ladder in the wood-house, Mamma! We never thought! The ladder in '-the rest of the sen

tence was lost in the distance.

'Sure enough.' Who of us, having reached maturity, but sometimes have exhausted all our energies on a problem, to find its solution in the simplest thing imaginable, and then stood silent, more vexed at our own stupidity than we had previously been at all the difficulties that beset us? So now, the shorter and lighter ladder from the woodhouse was soon in place, and Freddie's tiny hand grasping the rung.

'What if you should fall, my son ?'

'O, but I shan't,' he said, resolutely, and with one eye cocked up at

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the bird and the other beaming down on Mamma, who held the ladder firmly, but with a face fast bleaching at the thought of danger to her darling, he sung

'Hitchety hatchet, up I go. Hitchety hatchet, up I go !'

There,' he said, tenderly, but with a shade of triumph in his tone, as he dropped the trembling thing into his bosom, for, owing to the shortness of his legs and the distance between the rungs, two empty hands were essential to a safe descent.

Freddie may live to be a hundred years old, but he will never see a moment of supremer happiness than this. He may lead armies to battle, and achieve victories worthy of Alexander himself (whose namesake he is), but what is that compared to this bloodless conquest? There would be something left to ask then, be sure; now, the uttermost wish of his heart is satisfied. He may live to count his millions, but they will not have the value to him of the treasure he now holds; for then he will realize that some one else has more, but now it is not in his mind to conceive that there is in the universe anything of more importance than the feathered midget he holds in his hands. He may attain greatness, have fortunes and favours at his disposal, but he will, by that time, have learned that not 'winter's wind nor any other thing' is so unkind as man's ingratitude; that for gifts one sometimes gets kicks, for sacrifices curses, and—hesitate. Now it is with unmixed gladness he watches Mamma's deft fingers untangle the thread from the tiny brown leg, and then, from his own curved palm, sees the little thing soar away to freedom without so much as a chirruped 'Thank you.'

But, dear me, so far were any of these thoughts and comparisons from their practical minds that Mamma, picking a stray feather from her sleeve, said, smiling, as she took the chubby face in her hands for a kiss of approval—

'Quite a feat, Freddie, for a five-year old; quite a feat.'

And Freddie, casting his eye up the length of the ladder, and down again, replied, confidently-

'Oh! a good many feet, Mamma, I'm sure. A good many feet!'

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'Oh! dear,' yawned Harry Clapton, 'I do wish it didn't rain to-day. Such a perfect pour of rain, and it's tiresome indoors!'

And Harry, getting lazily up from his chair, stood before the fire, with his hands in his pockets, the picture of a discontented boy. 'Why don't you read ?' said mamma, from her corner by the win

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