That terrible old toad,--
If he only would hop!


TOAD.

I must cross the path,
I can hear my children croak;
I hope that dreadful boy
Will not give me a poke.

A hop and a start, a flutter and a rush,
Johnny is at school, and the toad in his bush.

H.A.F.

* * * * *




THE HEN WHO HELPED HERSELF.


In a city not far from Boston, there once lived a stout little fellow
named Willie Wilkins. He was six years old, had red cheeks and blue
eyes, and such curly hair that it was always in a tumble, no matter how
much it was brushed.

One summer his mamma took him into the country to spend a few weeks at a