the dear, blessed Little School-ma'am, will stand by him to the end.
And so will you, my chicks, Jack verily believes. He'll be a good
friend to you, bringing you any amount of fun, and telling you more
good things every month than you'll remember in a thousand years.

Now we'll take up our next subject.


AN ARTIFICIAL HORSE THAT CAN GO.

Well, well! The birds must be joking, for who ever heard of a bird
telling a deliberate lie? And yet it _may_ be true. There have been
artificial men,--manikins, automata, or whatever they are called,--so
why shouldn't there be artificial horses?

Come to think of it, it was not the birds who told me about them. It
was a letter; and "artificial horses" the letter said, as plainly as
could be. It told how a fine specimen had just been exhibited in the
capital of Prussia. The thing must look like a horse, too, for it is a
hobby between two high wheels (the rider sits on the saddle), and it
travels about as rapidly as a trotting horse. As I understand it,
the rider moves his legs to make the machine go, and yet it isn't a
bicycle. It goes over stony roads, turns corners, and, for aught Jack
knows, rears and kicks like any ordinary charger--that is, when it's
out of order.

I should like to see one among the boys of the red school-house. How
they would make it go!