One day the barn door was open and Mr. Rough thought of Benjy and
crept into the house. When he got into the front hall he smelled Benjy
and ran into the parlor; and when he got into the parlor he saw Benjy,
who had heard the jingle of his collar and who stood up and held out
his arms for him. Mr. Rough jumped into them, and then fell dead at
his master's feet.

Yes, dear children, Mr. Rough died of joy at seeing Benjy again. Benjy
felt very sorry for him, and it kept him from growing well for a long
time, but it did him good in other ways, for as the tears rolled down
his cheeks on to Mr. Bough's poor little scratched face, he felt as if
he never could hurt or be unkind to any animal again.




THE PORCELAIN STOVE.

Adapted From Ouida.

"The story-teller must take life into himself in its wholeness, must
let it live and work whole and free within him. He must give it out
free and unabbreviated, and yet STAND ABOVE THE LIFE which actually
is."--Froebel.


In a little brown house, far, far away in Germany, there lived a
father and his children. There were ever so many of them,--let me
see,--Hilda, the dear eldest sister, and Hans, the big, strong