nge the subject.

"Once there was a poor woman who had three or four little children, and
she used to lock them up in her room when she went out to work, to keep
them safe. On day when she was going away she said, 'Now, my dears,
don't let baby fall out of window, don't play with the matches, and
don't put beans up your noses.' Now the children had never dreamed of
doing that last thing, but she put it into their heads, and the minute
she was gone, they ran and stuffed their naughty little noses full of
beans, just to see how it felt, and she found them all crying when she
came home."

"Did it hurt?" asked Rob, with such intense interest that his mother
hastily added a warning sequel, lest a new edition of the bean story
should appear in her own family.

"Very much, as I know, for when my mother told me this story, I was so
silly that I went and tried it myself. I had no beans, so I took some
little pebbles, and poked several into my nose. I did not like it at
all, and wanted to take them out again very soon, but one would not
come, and I was so ashamed to tell what a goose I been that I went for
hours with the stone hurting me very much. At last the pain got so bad
I had to tell, and when my mother could not get it out the doctor came.
Then I was put in a chair and held tight, Rob, while he used his ugly
little pincers till the stone hopped out. Dear me! how my wretched
little nose did ache, and how people laughed at me!" and Mrs. Jo shook
her head in a dismal way, as if the memory of her sufferings was too
much for her.

Rob looked deeply impressed and I am glad to say took the warning to
heart. Demi proposed that they should bury poor Annabella, and in the
interest of the funeral Teddy forgot his fright. Daisy was soon consoled
by another batch of dolls from Aunt Amy, and the Naughty Kitty-mouse
seemed to be appeased by the last offerings, for she tormented them no
more.

"Brops" was the name of a new and absorbing play, invented by Bangs.
As this interesting animal is not to be found in any Zoological Garden,
unless Du Chaillu has recently brought one from the wilds of Africa, I
will mention a few of its peculiar habits and traits, for the benefit of
inquiring minds. The Brop is a winged quadruped, with a human face of
a youthful and merry aspect. When it walks the earth it grunts, when it
soars it gives a shrill hoot, occasionally it goes erect, and talks good
English. Its body is usually covered with a subst