A second gardener, with no pay,
Who still was busy every day.

"He killed the young potato-bugs,
The caterpillars, and the slugs,
The beetles striped with yellow lines,
That spoil the tender melon-vines,
And looked round with his blinking eyes
For cabbage-worms and turnip-flies,
Low-flying moths with downy wings,
And slimy snails in shady nooks.
It was the cruellest of things
To kill poor Hop Toad for his looks.

"And if, when you shall older grow,
You strangers judge by outward show,
You'll be as foolish as unjust:
In worthless men you'll put your trust,
And often sorrow, in the end,
For having wronged some honest friend.

MARIAN DOUGLAS.




A CURE FOR THE TOOTHACHE.


Our Ned is a brave little fellow about eight years old. He is full of