Grasshopper. "I wish that you would not say that he is."

"Oh, well, we need not quarrel about that," said the Fairy, laughing; "I have seen the world, Grasshopper, and I know a few things, - depend upon it. Your friend the Lark does not wear those long spurs for nothing."

The Grasshopper did not choose to contend with the Fairy, who all this time was busily fitting yellow slippers to her tiny feet. When, however, she had found a pair to her mind

"Suppose you come and see the eggs that our pretty friend the Lark has got in her nest," said the Grasshopper. "Three pink eggs spotted with brown. I am sure she will show them with pleasure."

Off they set together; but what was their surprise to find the poor little brown Lark sitting with rumpled feathers, drooping head, and trembling limbs.

"Ah, my pretty eggs!" said the Lark, as soon as she could speak, "I am so miserable about them they must be trodden on, they will certainly be found." "What is the matter?" asked the Grasshopper; perhaps we can help you."

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"Dear Grasshopper," said the Lark, "I have just heard the farmer and his son talking on the other side of the hedge, and the farmer said that to-morrow he should begin to cut this meadow."

"That is a great pity," said the Grasshopper. "What a sad thing it was that you laid your eggs on the ground!"

"Larks always do," said the poor little brown bird, "and I do not know how to make a fine nest such as those in the hedges. Oh, my pretty eggs! —my heart aches for them! I shall never hear my little nestlings chirp."

So the poor Lark moaned and lamented, and neither the Grasshopper nor the Fairy could do anything to help her.

At last her mate dropped down from the white cloud where he had been singing, and when he saw her drooping, and the Grasshopper and the Fairy sitting silently before her, he inquired in a great fright what the matter was.

She told him, and at first he was very much shocked; but presently he lifted first one and then the other of his feet, and examined his long spurs.

"He does not sympathize much with his poor mate," whispered the Fairy. But the Grasshopper took no note of the speech.

Still the Lark looked at his spurs, and seemed to be in very deep thought.

"If I had only laid my eggs on the other side of the hedge," sighed the poor mother, "among the grain,

there would have been plenty of time to rear my birds before harvest time."

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My dear," answered her mate, "don't be unhappy." And so saying, he hopped up to the eggs, and laying one foot on the prettiest, he clasped it with his long spurs. Strange to say, it exactly fitted them.

"Oh, my clever mate!" cried the poor little mother, reviving; "do you think you can carry them away for me?"

"To be sure I can," replied the Lark, beginning slowly and carefully to hop on, with the egg in his right foot. "Nothing more easy! I have often thought it was likely that our eggs would be disturbed in this meadow, but it never occurred to me till this moment that I could provide against the misfortune. I have often wondered what my spurs could be for; and now I see."

So saying, he hopped gently on, till he came to the hedge, and then he got through it, holding the egg, till he found a nice little hollow place in among the grain, and there he laid it, and came back for the others.

"Hurrah!" cried the Grasshopper, "Larkspur for

ever!"

The Fairy said ashamed of herself.

nothing, but she felt heartily She sat looking on till the happy Lark had carried all the eggs to a safe place, and had called his mate to come and sit on them. Then he sprang up into the sky again, exulting because he knew what his long spurs were for.

But the Fairy stole gently away, saying to herself: "Well, I could not have believed it. I thought he must be a quarrelsome bird, as his spurs were so long."

[Abridgment.]

JEAN INGElow.

WISHING.

Ring-ting! I wish I were a Primrose,

A bright yellow Primrose blowing in the Spring! The stooping boughs above me,

The wandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the Elm tree for our king!

Nay stay! I wish I were an Elm tree,
A great lofty Elm tree, with green leaves gay!
The winds would set them dancing,

The sun and moonshine glance in,
The birds would house among the boughs,
And sweetly sing.

Oh no! I wish I were a Robin,

A Robin or a little Wren, everywhere to go;
Through forest, field, or garden,

And ask no leave or pardon,
Till Winter comes with icy thumbs
To ruffle up our wing!

Well - tell! Where should I fly to,

Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell?

Before a day was over,

Home comes the

For Mother's kiss,

rover,

sweeter this

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

Than any other thing.